Memoirs: The Reaper War
by Sharrukin
Summary: Finally the Shadow Broker and the galaxy's champion have found their way back together. Now they face the greatest challenge in history: the return of the Reapers. To defeat this foe, Liara and Shepard will have to work miracles . . . but in the end, they may find the cost too great to bear. (Latest update: Facing the Reaper, winning a future for the krogan.)
1. Broker and Champion

_**1600 Local Time, 10 February 2186, Shadow Broker Vessel/Hagalaz**_

The Shadow Broker stood in the control center at the heart of her ship, evaluating the forces that had been deployed against her.

"Report," she commanded.

"One cruiser, three frigates, two over-strength squadrons of fighters," said an asari sensor officer. "They have the new armor, barriers, and weapons upgrades. They're hailing us."

"Let's hear it."

"_Shadow Broker, this is Colonel Alexandre da Silva of the Cerberus cruiser __**Vigilance**__. You are surrounded and outgunned. Lower your defenses and prepare to be boarded. You have my word that you and your personnel will not be harmed._"

"Defense, you have free-fire authorization," said T'Soni, her voice still utterly calm. "Get those Cerberus ships out of my sky."

For decades the Shadow Broker's vessel had hovered in one of the terminator zones of Hagalaz, riding an eternal lightning storm, drawing power from the violence of its environment. It had rarely exercised its full capacity to _direct_ the energy it stored. Now its kinetic barriers crashed into place, powerful enough to stand up to a dreadnought's main gun for a time. Weapons turrets popped out from the hull, swiveling to aim at the Cerberus invaders. Within moments, the air was full of torpedoes.

Cerberus was not caught by surprise. _Vigilance_ immediately retreated, permitting its smaller companions to move forward and begin strafing the airship's massive hull. GARDIAN lasers began to rake the sky, fleetingly visible as they flash-vaporized stray water droplets or dust particles in the upper atmosphere of Hagalaz. Then the cruiser's spinal Thanix cannon boomed, sending streams of plasma-hot metal to gouge at the airship's defenses.

Unfortunately, while the airship had many virtues, _maneuverability_ was not one of them.

T'Soni felt the deck rock under her feet, then again _harder_. She tried not to think about what kind of force would make a ship so massive recoil so strongly. She heard a distant roar as some compartment was breached.

"Four fighters down," reported a batarian voice. "Five. Six. Direct hit on frigate Alpha."

"_I need that cruiser dead!"_

"Working on it."

Then it was too late. _Vigilance_ scored a direct hit amidships, knocking down the airship's kinetic barrier with a flash of light, tearing the hull open and smashing one of the great engines.

"_Goddess!"_ The Shadow Broker looked around her control center, seeing red lights on console after console. For a moment, she couldn't understand why everything was so quiet.

"They're hailing us again," said the sensor officer.

She glanced around, evaluated the condition of her ship. Realized that she would need to buy some time. "I'll take it."

This time, it was not Colonel da Silva on the other end of the communication. It was a pale-skinned male human, his dark hair frosted with silver, his blue eyes shining oddly. He took a deep drag on a cigarette and watched the Shadow Broker with keen interest. "Dr. T'Soni."

"Illusive Man."

"I hope I can persuade you to surrender now. There's no point in further resistance."

"There is _always_ a point in further resistance. Still, suppose I might be willing to consider a bargain of some kind. What do you propose?"

"Much the same as _you_ proposed the last time we spoke. Just before you helped Shepard cut ties with Cerberus. The major difference being that I now have the upper hand."

"An alliance?"

"Call it a partnership . . . with the Shadow Broker as the _junior_ partner. Hand over your resources, your network, to Cerberus control. We'll use them more effectively than you could to stop the Reapers."

"I believe we've had this discussion before. Cerberus _can't_ stop the Reapers . . . and even if you could, what you promise for the galaxy wouldn't be much better."

"Cerberus isn't after _universal extinction_."

"No. Only the destruction of all the things that make life worth living." The Shadow Broker shook her head. "There's no point in going over this ground again. The answer is _no_."

"Don't be a fool, Doctor. We have you exactly where we want you."

"Actually, I suspect the reverse is true."

The Illusive Man frowned, not understanding her intent.

T'Soni left the channel open, turning to the nearest console and beginning to enter commands. Her airship trembled as the full power of its remaining engines came online.

"What are you doing, Doctor?"

She heard an enormous roar, felt the deck shift beneath her feet. The airship rose, began to accelerate.

"_Doctor?"_

She turned back to the Illusive Man, a brave smile on her face. "Better watch your back, Mr. Harper. Your days are numbered. Especially if the Alliance ever chooses to release my bondmate and put _him_ back to work."

Perhaps the crew of the Cerberus cruiser had been taken off guard. Perhaps they had simply not believed what their sensors reported. In any case, they were just a few seconds too slow to bring their own engines to maximum power and evade.

The Shadow Broker's airship speared into the side of its foe, hull buckling, enormous spars of metal bending and shattering in the shock of collision. Within instants both ships were hopelessly entangled, drifting to one side and sinking as gravity began to reassert its dominion. Then one of the mass-effect cores was fatally compromised, giving rise to an eye-searing explosion.

Two of the Cerberus frigates survived, fleeing with no more than superficial damage. Of the Cerberus cruiser and the Shadow Broker's airship, nothing remained but a few kilotons of wreckage falling to the surface of Hagalaz far below.

* * *

_**0830 Shipboard Time (ISV Sheguntai), 10 February 2186, Hagalaz Orbit**_

Surrounded by static and white noise, I stepped down from the communications stage. At once _Sheguntai_'s onboard computer cut the quantum-entanglement channel I had been using to control the airship remotely. The holographic emitters on all sides of the stage went inactive. The Strategic Information Center reappeared, ready for anything I might require.

"Do you think they bought it?" I asked the thin air.

"_Looks that way,_" answered Feron's rumbling tenor voice, transmitted from his command position in the CIC. "_Both frigates are running scared, straight on a heading for the Osun system._ _Probably about to push up to FTL . . . ah, there they go_."

"No sign that they detected us?"

"_None. We were running silent and keeping the bulk of Hagalaz between us and them the whole time._"

"Good." I glanced across several consoles. "The network is still in good order, even with the airship gone. No significant lag times."

"_I should hope not, given how much you spent on these mobile command nodes._"

"Well, hopefully the Illusive Man doesn't know too much about these ships yet. He may believe for a time that the Shadow Broker's network has been crippled. That should give us an advantage."

"_He probably also thinks you're dead_."

"Maybe. If he does, I doubt it will last long. I've already used that trick against him once."

"_Last time you weren't as showy about it_." Feron paused for a moment, possibly receiving a report from one of his officers. _"Everything looks green. Orders?"_

I stopped, my hands clasped behind my back and my head bowed. I knew where I _wanted_ to go, but I didn't trust my judgment on the question.

By the human calendar it was early February, 2186 CE, and time was running very short. According to my best estimate, the Reapers would reach a primary mass relay in no more than two months. The first weight of their assault would probably fall on Khar'Shan and the Batarian Hegemony. Shortly after that they would be _everywhere_.

I shook my head. No matter how I set up the question, I kept getting the same answer. I wasn't making any progress. I needed to consult with my allies. I needed to see Shepard.

"Wait for an hour, and make sure Cerberus didn't leave any observers behind," I finally ordered Feron. "Then take us to the primary mass relay . . . and to Earth."

"_Understood_," said the drell.

* * *

_**0800 Local Time, 12 February 2186, Vancouver/Earth**_

Admiral Hackett's office was large but rather austere, with few personal items or pieces of artwork to soften its impact. One thing he did enjoy was a great plate window with a _glorious_ view of Vancouver harbor. When I arrived, the admiral was standing with his back to the door, sipping a cup of coffee and staring out of that window in contemplation. At first I thought he was alone . . .

"Liara!"

Shepard was already present after all, sitting at the conference table where he hadn't been visible from the door. He looked at home in Alliance undress blues, even without any rank insignia on his collar. He rose and smiled at me, the admiral's presence inhibiting anything more demonstrative, although his eyes gleamed a promise for later.

"Shepard. Admiral Hackett."

The admiral turned, the ghost of a smile on his face as he glanced at the two of us. He crossed the floor to the table and made a gesture, inviting us to be seated. "I'm triple-booked starting in half an hour, so we need to be brief. Will you be staying on Earth for long, Dr. T'Soni?"

"That depends on what we discuss here." I sighed. "To be honest, I feel as if I'm fighting fog: lots of effort for no obvious result. I'm beginning to think we need to change our strategy."

Hackett nodded. "Let's review our status first. Shepard?"

"The Red Team has gamed a number of scenarios based on what we know about Reaper capabilities. We've made different assumptions about Alliance preparedness, the dissemination of technological upgrades, the level of help we can get from the rest of the Council species, a few other variables." Shepard shook his head ruefully. "None of it makes much difference. The notional Reapers are always able to disassemble the Alliance and drive the human race into extinction. It's just a question of how long it takes them to do it. The average estimate is twelve to eighteen months."

"So what you're saying is that we can't defeat the Reapers conventionally," Hackett stated.

Shepard shrugged. "Most of the Defense Committee members still seem to think it can be done. Somehow. Personally I think they're in deep denial."

"Would you advise us to call a halt to Project AEGIS?"

I frowned. AEGIS was the Alliance Navy's effort to roll bleeding-edge defense and weapons technology out to as many ships as possible. Thanix cannons, Silaris hull armor, cyclonic barrier technology, all the same upgrades that had rendered the _Normandy_ capable of meeting and destroying a Collector cruiser. AEGIS had been Hackett's top priority ever since the Shastri government ordered a change in Alliance defense strategy.

"No," said Shepard. "The upgrades are worth doing. They might give our ships more of a chance when the Reapers arrive. I can't think of any better place to spend the resources we have."

"But in the end all it can do is buy us a little more time."

Shepard nodded, slowly and reluctantly.

"Dr. T'Soni, do you concur?"

"I'm not a military expert, Admiral . . ."

"You have military experts on your staff," he interrupted me. "What do they say?"

"I'm afraid they have an even lower opinion of your chances than that," I admitted.

Hackett leaned back in his chair and looked at the two of us. "Then we need a game-changer."

Shepard and I exchanged a glance. His expression shifted, ever so slightly, but I could read him almost as well as if he had shouted aloud.

_I've been effectively locked up for the last four months. I've got nothing._

I leaned forward. "I may have a possibility. It's not much . . ."

"Any port in a storm, Doctor," said Hackett. "Let's hear it."

"Over the last few years, the yahg spent a great deal of time studying the Protheans. He sent his agents out to acquire Prothean artifacts. He reviewed every academic paper he could find on the subject. He sponsored scientific expeditions." I looked down at the tabletop in embarrassment. "Apparently at one point he even sponsored _me_. Some of the money I used to fund the dig on Therum came from a front corporation owned by the Shadow Broker. He had copies of _all_ of my papers."

"So the Shadow Broker was one of your _fans?"_ said Hackett, amused.

"Too bad you had to kill him," said Shepard. "What use is all of that now, though? The Protheans gave us the beacons, and the Conduit on Ilos, but we've already used those against the Reapers."

"The yahg seemed to think there was more out there . . . and the more I consider the evidence, the more I find I agree." I used my omni-tool to call up a galactic map, illustrating my point with graphics. "Remember that the Reapers struck directly at the Citadel to begin the Prothean extinction. The message from the Eden Prime beacon suggested that the galactic community was shattered into independent regions, which couldn't easily coordinate their resistance. The Conduit was developed within one of those fragments. What if other Protheans tried to develop other strategies to strike back against the Reapers?"

"What are you proposing?" asked Hackett.

"A crash effort to study Prothean records all over the galaxy," I said. "We examine anything we can find from the Fourth Age, the time just before or during the extinction. We look at any artifact or record that might give us more ideas about to how to resist the Reapers. Even knowing what the Protheans tried that _didn't work_ might be of some use."

"The Alliance can't do that on its own," Hackett objected.

"You _can_ examine Prothean artifacts and archives within your own territory, Admiral. Mars, Eden Prime, a few other worlds. Meanwhile I can work the scientific community elsewhere, see how many asari and salarian experts I can pull into the effort."

Shepard shook his head. "This sounds like a terrible long shot, Liara."

"I know." I looked at both of them. "I'm afraid I'm out of other ideas."

Hackett nodded slowly. "Doctor, this sounds like the best thing you could be doing, both as a scientist and as the Shadow Broker. Go ahead. I'll give you as much support as I can."

"All right. My network will continue to feed intel on other subjects to the Alliance, of course."

"Good." The admiral checked his omni-tool for the time, took the last sip of his coffee, and stood. Both of us rose as well. "Now I have to go. Shepard, I'll leave Dr. T'Soni in your charge for the rest of the day. Check in with Lieutenant Vega, but I believe the two of you have meetings scheduled with the Red Team and the Defense Committee."

Shepard saluted. "Understood, Admiral."

* * *

_**1930 Local Time, 12 February 2186, Vancouver/Earth**_

The terms of Shepard's "imprisonment" limited his freedom of movement. He rarely left the secured Alliance Navy compound in Vancouver, keeping up the appearance that he was still under investigation for a litany of crimes. He spent every evening in his "cell," a comfortable apartment tucked away deep inside officer's quarters. There he had almost every comfort, including occasional visitors who had been cleared to know the truth about his status.

The apartment was four rooms: living area, kitchen, study, and bedroom. There were only a few personal items. Shepard had never been in the habit of acquiring possessions, and much of his property had been lost while he was believed to be dead. A painting of the first _Normandy_ hung in the living area. A battered N7 helmet and a set of dogtags rested on a side table. Two portraits hung in the study, one of his long-lost family, the other of me. His father's Bible, old and worn, lay on a corner of the desk. A few other books stood on a nearby shelf. Otherwise Shepard normally kept the whole place impersonally neat and clean.

At the moment there was also a trail of garments, Alliance Navy undress blues and an asari business ensemble, stretching from the outer door across the entire floor to the bedroom.

I rolled aside, pressing the entire length of my body against him, enjoying a sense of euphoria and pleasant fatigue. Once I was comfortable, my head tucked into the hollow of his shoulder, I closed my eyes and reviewed the memories I had just acquired from him. I knew he was doing the same.

After a few moments, I sighed. "I must admit, I _do_ enjoy debriefing."

Shepard chuckled, a deep rumble in his chest. "I don't think I've ever heard it called _that_ before."

"Well. Consider it one of the benefits of marrying an asari. Given how rarely we get to see each other, it saves _hours_ of conversation each time."

His arm tightened around my waist, his head turned slightly, and I felt his lips caress my crest. "Blue goddess. I wish I could have seen the Illusive Man's face when you sent the Broker's airship on that _kamikaze_ run."

"Hmm." I took another deep breath, suddenly feeling serious. "To tell the truth, Shepard, I'm worried about Cerberus."

"So am I." He shifted his body slightly, permitting me to slide a leg between his. "I've been following all the intel we get, from you and from our own sources, ever since that incident with Paul Grayson. I don't like what I've been hearing about their interest in Reaper technology. Cerberus has a habit of playing with fire. I'm afraid we might all get burned this time."

"I agree. Some of the news I've heard from the Terminus Systems . . ."

"That agreement the Illusive Man reached with Aria T'Loak?"

I nodded. "They've been using the Omega-4 Relay, with her permission and support. Visiting the wreckage of the Collector base you destroyed. Goddess alone knows what they're finding there."

"It does fit their usual strategy," he observed. "Cerberus has always been interested in developing ways to _improve_ their operatives or their soldiers. Reaper technology certainly promises one way to do that. Saren was a tough bastard even before _Sovereign_ implanted him, and he was almost unstoppable afterward. Paul Grayson was a sickly red sand addict, and Reaper implants turned him into a biotic super-soldier. If Cerberus can find a way to harness that capability . . ."

"Don't forget the _control_ aspect," I reminded him. "Reaper technology also indoctrinates its victims."

"I don't get that part. Why would the Illusive Man want to create an army of Reaper agents?"

"Perhaps he thinks he can override the Reapers' influence. Turn the indoctrination to his own purposes."

"Hmm. It would have to be very tempting to someone as obsessed with control as he is. The perfect tyranny, where your subjects never even consider betraying or opposing you."

We lay in silence for several minutes, each lost in our own thoughts. Slowly I realized that a certain urge was returning.

"Shepard," I said at last.

"Yes?"

"I'm hungry."

I could feel the muffled laughter under my hands, like a tremor deep in his body. "T'Soni, you are _outrageous_."

"I'm also a biotic . . . and I seem to recall it getting _very_ bright in here a few minutes ago."

"I suppose I should have fed you first."

"I was in too much of a hurry. You may feed me _now_."

"Well." He stirred, began to slide out from under my arm and leg. I lay back and enjoyed the sight of him rising nude out of the bed. "As it happens, I have anticipated your desires. There's a very good Thessian sunfish in the refrigerator, along with _soba_ noodles, some fresh salad, and a bottle of Serrice white. Give me fifteen minutes and we can have dinner in bed."

"What about dessert?"

"I'm sure I can think of something."

"Hmm. That sounds wonderful. You launch a frontal assault on the kitchen, I will perform a diversionary raid on your shower cubicle, and we can meet back here to compare battle damage assessments."

"Deal."

_If only all our strategic decisions were that simple_, I thought, as I rose and padded across the thick carpet toward the refresher.


	2. Quest

_**26 February 2186, Serrice/Thessia**_

"It is safe," said Dr. Passante.

I emerged from the skycar to stand next to her, pulling a veil across my face even though I hoped there would be no one else nearby to see. I was altogether too recognizable on Thessia. Even a moment's glance from a stranger might cause no end of trouble. Fortunately I had become accustomed to disguise. I had imitated the _tsakoni_ style before, wearing a hood and veil to obscure my features.

I followed the older asari across the courtyard, old memories making my pace confident despite the darkness.

"Sneaking Liara T'Soni into the Archives after hours," my guide murmured. "This is not something I ever thought I would find myself doing again."

"That makes two of us." I rested a hand on her shoulder as we walked. "It _is_ good to see you again, Doctor. Even if the circumstances aren't ideal."

At the door, she opened her omni-tool and entered an access code. The doors opened silently. The two of us entered the front hall, passing between the two statues of Athame that stood guard just inside.

"Please, Liara. We're colleagues now. My name is Alene."

"I am honored, Alene."

"Yet that raises a question. You are no longer one of my undergraduate students. You are a tenured professor at the University, with a teaching chair waiting any time you choose to come home and claim it. You have every right to consult the Archives openly, in the light of day. Why this stealth?"

I shook my head. _She would never understand about Matriarch Thessala. Or about the need to evade Cerberus_. "I'm sorry, Alene. I can't go into that. There are . . . political complications."

"I see." She turned away, clearly disappointed, but her steps never faltered as she led me into the secured sections of the building. "I've missed you, Liara. I have to admit, when you contacted me, I hoped for a moment that you were planning to return to Thessia. For good."

"I know."

"You are a superb researcher and a wonderful teacher. You have discovered more in your youth than some asari scientists manage in a thousand years of work. We need you here."

"To be honest, there are times when coming back home is all I can think about." I sighed. "It would be so much easier."

She stopped, turned to examine me. I searched her face as well, the familiar blunt features unmarked by dappling or paint, the eyes that always looked a little bit sad. Her face and figure had changed since I had been her student, signs of her upcoming transition into the Matriarch stage.

"It's been only a few years since I saw you last, yet you have grown a great deal," she finally observed. "I think it becomes you."

"Life has been very full," I admitted.

"So I have heard. Your last two academic papers were rather _startling_. Since then you seem to have spent most of your time on political machinations rather than science. Now I hear you have bonded with that rather infamous human, Shepard . . ."

"Yes."

"I don't know what's driving you, Liara, and it's not my business to pry. But I am deeply concerned." She stepped closer, the better to look into my eyes in the dim light. "Your mother and I were friends. She meant well, but her passions consumed her. Whatever it is you're after, I couldn't bear to watch the same thing happen to you."

"It won't." I reached out and took her hand. "Alene, I can't tell you why I'm doing this. I need you to trust me."

Slowly, she nodded. "I suppose it comes down to that. I do trust you."

"Thank you," I breathed.

"Come on, we're almost there."

She led me through two more locked doors. Finally we entered a study chamber, one of many distributed around the Archives complex. This one was dedicated to Prothean studies, the most complete collection of research on that subject anywhere in the galaxy. If the Protheans had ever even _hinted_ at a weapon against the Reapers, I expected to find some record of it here.

I sat down and began to work the console with the ease of long practice. An hour passed. Eventually Dr. Passante caught the drift of what I was searching for, sat down at the next console and began to help.

Two hours passed. Three hours.

"This can't _possibly _be everything that's here," I said at last, leaning back from the console in disgust.

"Perhaps what you are looking for does not exist," Dr. Passante suggested.

"No, that can't be." I called up some of the documents I had glanced at earlier and set aside. "Here. These are transcripts of Fourth Age inscriptions, from the Karris expedition on Lusia. It's clear that the Protheans were _aware_ of the extinction cycle even before the Reapers arrived. The only thing they lacked was an understanding of the mechanism."

She gave me a sharp stare. "How can you be so certain?"

"I can read late Prothean. Wasn't that clear from my paper on the dig in the Eramethos Mountains?"

"Not entirely. You were careful to keep your translation of those text fragments within the confines of what is already agreed upon in the scientific community. I _did_ wonder how you were able to translate the texts so quickly."

"While I was traveling with Shepard, before the geth attack on the Citadel, we encountered an ancient life form on the planet Feros. The creature was intelligent, had survived since the Prothean era, and had absorbed a great deal of knowledge about them. Including their spoken and written language."

"You joined with this . . . creature?"

"At third hand, yes, but the knowledge was transmitted cleanly. Unfortunately it's largely unconscious knowledge. I can't _speak_ or _write_ Prothean. I've never managed to produce a working lexicon for others to use. Even so, I can understand it when I hear or read it."

"Liara. Even if you could not write out a lexicon, you could still help others with translation."

"I don't see how."

"For shame. Forgetting your basic paleolinguistics like that. How do we decipher ancient languages, when we do not have the advantage of knowledge inherited from mysterious alien creatures?"

"With great difficulty." I blinked, surprised chagrin suddenly washing through my mind. "Using _parallel texts_, where those exist."

"Exactly. Like the famous _Rosetta Stone_ that enabled the humans to decipher one of their own ancient languages. We have never found parallel texts for any of the Prothean dialects and a known language, so it has taken centuries of work to develop even what little knowledge we have. But could you not take some well-known Prothean texts, produce your own clean translations into _koiné_, and then hand those over to expert linguists? Your translations could serve as parallel texts, the basis for a complete Prothean lexicon and grammar."

I lowered my face into my hands. "Goddess. I can't _believe_ I overlooked that."

"You seem to have had other concerns. Does the scheme seem practical?"

"Certainly it does. I can translate Prothean almost as quickly as I can read it. But how do we get anyone to take my word that the translations are correct?"

"We don't have to. Consider your translations to be a _hypothesis_ that remains to be falsified. If the lexicon that grows from your work bears fruit when applied to other Prothean texts, the hypothesis grows stronger. If it generates nonsense, it will be discarded. That _is_ how science works, after all."

"All right. Before I leave Thessia I will produce as many translations as I can. Will you work with the faculty to generate a lexicon and begin testing it? Dr. Orysae would almost certainly be willing to help."

"Of course." She gave me an appraising look. "I take it that time is of the essence."

"Very much so. I'm afraid that the translation of Prothean texts – quickly, correctly, and in complete detail – will soon be a survival skill."

"That bad?" She took a deep breath. "Well, we will do what we can."

"That still leaves us with the problem of why there's almost nothing _here_ of any use. The Protheans _knew_ some threat loomed over them. One would think they would have been desperate to discover its nature and develop a solution."

"Perhaps most of the relevant work was done elsewhere in the galaxy. Somewhere asari scientists have never explored."

"I suppose that's possible. There may be hundreds of Prothean worlds we've never found, including their homeworld." I frowned, my mind suddenly veering down another chain of deductions. "There's another possibility we should consider."

Dr. Passante cocked her head at me, waiting.

"What if this collection isn't complete?"

"I don't understand."

"What if some data has been _removed_ from it?"

She shook her head. "That's not possible. The Archives are all but sacred. The curators would _never_ remove anything from the stacks."

"Are you sure?"

She struggled with the idea.

I found it hard to believe as well. Freedom of information was one of the bedrock principles of the Asari Republics. Yet as the Shadow Broker I had come across hints that my people held some _very_ deep secrets. Things known only to a few of the Matriarchs, passed down from century to century out of the public's eye.

In particular, I had discovered that Councilor Tevos knew of the Reapers. Not as a hypothesis to be proven or falsified, but as a terrible and unquestionable _fact_. Even before Shepard came before the Council and first spoke that dreadful name, _Tevos had already known_.

_Where did she get that knowledge?_

"Let's dig a little deeper, Alene." I returned to the console and began typing in commands.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm looking at the metadata: when items were added to the archive; when they were modified; where they are stored in the physical memory space. Who has looked at them, altered them, and possibly even removed them."

"You can do that?" My mentor leaned close to watch.

"It's not easy, but yes."

The Archives were not _designed_ to reveal their inner workings, but they were not absolutely secure. My cyberwarfare skills had been improving ever since I turned from archaeology to information brokerage. I had been taught by some of the best, including quarian technologists like Tali and Arin. I knew the words necessary to bind and to loose.

"There." I leaned back and looked up at the big display before us.

"What am I seeing?"

I pointed at sections of the display that were dark. "Look there . . . and there . . . and especially there. Big blocks of physical memory that _should_ contain Prothean data, accessible to the Archives. Yet they appear to be empty."

"Perhaps they are."

"No. Empty blocks would be reallocated, as more information comes into the Archives. At some point there should be a defragmentation, so that the Prothean data no longer have these enormous chunks of blank space in their midst. If these blocks are still here, it's because they actually contain relevant data that have been partitioned off." I bent to the console once more. "Let's see if we can get a clue as to what's in there . . ."

The display went dark, and then a red mandala appeared. _Matriarch's Seal_.

I opened my omni-tool and recalled a code Arin had once given me, one that had bypassed the Seal on my own entry in the genetic archives. This time it failed to work. I cursed viciously in quarian exoteric dialect, another skill I had learned from Tali and Arin.

"Why would the Matriarchs seal off so much information about the Protheans?" Dr. Passante wondered.

"That is a _very_ good question." I scowled in frustration. "Alene, I have always wondered something. Just _why_ are Prothean studies so little favored among our people?"

She glanced sharply at me. "You suspect that is not an accident?"

"I don't know. So few students venture into the specialty, and most of them lose interest somewhere along the way. I can count on my fingers the number of living asari who have done serious work in the field. When I was younger I rather enjoyed that, knowing I would find it relatively easy to make an original contribution. Now . . . I wonder if there isn't more to it."

"I suppose it is possible. Matriarchs subtly using their money and influence, pushing people away from a scientific discipline they find useless?"

"Or that they find _dangerous_."

She sighed. "I believe I will look into this. Carefully."

"Do that. In the meantime, if I can't get the information I need here, I have to figure out where to look next."

"If what you suspect is true, you will have to look outside asari space. Somewhere that the Matriarchs cannot easily reach."

"Hmm." An idea sprang into my mind. "Cross-references!"

Dr. Passante smiled. "Yes, I see."

I pounced on the console once more. "Consider a document that discusses the Protheans, in the context of some location outside asari space. If that document is filed correctly, it should be referenced both here and in the Galactic Cartography section. Now some Matriarch decides that the information is dangerous, and places it under the Seal. But that would create _two copies_ of the Seal, one in each section of the stacks, with _precisely the same timestamp_."

"Which you can then use to associate the sealed Prothean document with a specific place, without having to gain access to the document itself."

"Exactly."

Five minutes later, we had a list of eight worlds:

_Eden Prime  
Eletania  
Garvug  
Gei Hinnom  
Kahje  
Kopis  
Mars  
Talis Fia_

I sighed. "Well, it's something."

"Do you have any idea where you will go first?"

"Eden Prime and Mars are Alliance worlds. I can have my human allies investigate there for now. I've already visited the Prothean site on Eletania, and I doubt it has anything useful. Garvug, Gei Hinnom, and Kopis are all very hostile worlds, so I would need to mount major expeditions there. That leaves Kahje and Talis Fia."

"Hanar or volus. Neither sounds like a bargain."

"No." I took a deep breath and made up my mind. "I'm owed a few favors on Talis Fia. I will look there first."

"I may be able to get you some help," she said brightly, as if an idea had leaped into her mind.

I frowned. I did _not_ want Dr. Passante jumping into my troubles, not if it would put her future status as a Matriarch at risk.

She must have seen my hesitation. "Don't worry, Liara, I'm too set in my ways to be jaunting around the galaxy. I have someone else in mind."

"All right." I shut down the console I had been working with, rose and stretched to ease my stiff joints. "I will stay on Thessia for at least two days, so I can produce our Rosetta Stone. It's best I stay out of sight, though."

"You would be welcome to stay with me. I have been living alone for the past few years."

I almost asked the obvious question, but then I remembered her last bondmate, a male salarian named Damarr. When I last saw him, he had been more than old enough to have passed on in the years since. Best not to reopen any healed-over grief she might be carrying. Instead I nodded and embraced her warmly. "I would be happy to accept your hospitality."

* * *

_**27 February 2186, Serrice/Thessia**_

'_A-tha-kse-na po-va-shi to ru-te-na 'u-kha Te-na-ka 'A-tha-da . . ._

"Tenak Athad departed the Citadel in great haste," I murmured to myself, double-checking the sense of the text as it filtered through the Cipher in the back of my mind. Satisfied that I had missed no nuances, I entered a few more words into the growing translation on my datapad.

I was working in Dr. Passante's dining room, the only place in her house where I could spread out a vast array of datapads and printed references. A half-eaten sandwich and an empty wineglass stood to one side, forgotten.

"Liara?"

I reached the end of a paragraph, finished my translation, marked the place, and set the datapad down. Only then did I notice that the sunlight shining through the window had moved all the way across the room since I last paid it any attention. _Goddess. How long have I been at this?_

Long enough to produce over ten thousand words of translated text, apparently. I rose from my chair and went to meet Dr. Passante.

She was not alone. Another asari was just entering the house, very young, pretty with no markings on her face, dressed in a white-with-blue-accents ensemble rather like my own. I smiled warmly and went to greet the two of them. "Alene. Treeya, it's very good to see you again."

Just as I had once been one of Dr. Passante's students, Treeya Nuwani had once been one of mine. She had not chosen to follow me as an archaeologist, instead earning degrees in xenopsychology and non-asari cultural studies. I had nevertheless served as one of her academic advisors, helping her to earn her doctorate.

We had last spoken about seven months earlier, while Treeya was on Fehl Prime . . . just before the Collectors had struck that helpless human colony. She and two Alliance soldiers had been the only survivors of the attack. Even so, they won the first true victory against the Collectors, destroying the monsters' ship and recovering a great deal of vital intelligence. They certainly did much better than I had managed a few days before, on Ferris Fields.

I held Treeya at arm's length to examine her closely. Superficially she appeared much as I remembered her from my classes, a decade ago. A closer look told me that she had changed. The lines of her body were harder and more refined, as if she had been taking strenuous exercise. Then there were her eyes, not quite as wide or innocent as they had been, evaluating the world around her with a certain cold steeliness.

_I wonder if this is what people who knew me years ago see when they look at me?_

"Dr. T'Soni." Her voice was still soft and sweet, but its tone was flatter than I remembered.

"No need for formality between us," I told her. "Not after what we have both been through."

She gave a sharp nod. "Liara. It's good to see you too. I never thanked you properly."

"For what?"

"For giving us a moment's warning, back there on Fehl Prime. That might be the only reason any of us got out of that horrible situation with our lives."

I gave her a sober nod. "I'm glad. Are you well, Treeya?"

"Well enough. I don't think any of us will ever forget what happened."

"You stay in touch with the other survivors?"

"Yes. James and I speak as often as we can." Her eyes dropped to the floor for a moment, and I saw just a hint of higher color in her cheeks. It told me everything I needed to know.

"Are you involved with Lieutenant Vega?" I asked gently.

"Yes. No." She sighed. "It's complicated."

I laughed and hugged her. She clung to me for a moment, as if for comfort. "Bless you, Treeya. I can attest that _any_ relationship with a male human is going to be complicated . . . especially if he is a soldier, at a time like this. I'm glad you're here. Are you the _help_ that Alene promised me?"

"I might be," she said as the three of us moved to sit in the living area. "Dr. Passante told me that you are working on a crash project to investigate the Prothean response to the Reapers."

_She no longer doubts the Reaper hypothesis_, I observed to myself. _Not surprising, given what she has seen_.

"Yes. Alene and I have identified a number of sites outside asari space that might be worth examining . . . but I can't cover them all myself. Not in the time we have remaining."

"Tell me what you want me to do," she said simply.

"Hmm." I thought quickly, weighing options. "How would you like to be the lead scientist on board a starship?"

Treeya blinked in surprise. "Like you were, on board the _Normandy_ with Commander Shepard?"

"Very much like that. The ship would even resemble the original _Normandy_. Although I suspect you would not have to live in a cubbyhole behind the medical bay."

"How do you have the resources to offer Dr. Nuwani such a position?" asked Dr. Passante.

"Let's just say that I have a close relationship with someone who does. I think he will accept my recommendations in this matter."

"An Alliance ship?" Treeya inquired.

"No. A ship belonging to the Shadow Broker. Its commander would be under orders to support your mission."

Treeya only nodded in acceptance.

Dr. Passante was not nearly as calm. "Treeya, are you certain about this? I for one want to know just how Dr. T'Soni can claim _that_ specific alliance."

"I thought I had your trust," I reminded her softly.

"You do! But this is very difficult to accept. _You_ can make recommendations to the _Shadow Broker_, and convince him to allocate a multi-billion-credit starship to this mission?"

"Yes," I said, holding her gaze and projecting absolute certainty.

"Goddess. You said you weren't at risk of your mother's fate. Are you sure you aren't on a path leading to a far _worse_ one?"

"I think we are _all_ at risk of a far worse fate, if we don't find a way to defend ourselves against the Reapers." I took a deep breath and decided to reveal just a little of the truth. "Alene, there's very little I would not do . . . very little I have not _already done_ . . . in pursuit of that end."

Treeya glanced at me, and then turned to catch the older asari's eyes, nodding in sober agreement.

"You _have_ changed, Liara." Dr. Passante shook her head ruefully. "Goddess watch over us all."


	3. Ancient Echoes

_**1 March 2186, Serrice/Thessia**_

Three days buried in Prothean texts. I had produced over thirty thousand words of translation, and had found myself starting to think in Prothean at odd moments. Constant practice was pulling the Cipher out of my unconscious mind and into my language centers where it could be consciously applied.

Of course, even if I could now read and write Prothean I still had no idea how to _speak_ it. No one had ever recovered a viable recording of Prothean speech, so we had no way to know with precision how the language was pronounced.

_I wish Vigil had managed to keep some of the scientists on Ilos alive in stasis. Even one would have been enough_.

I shook my head in self-disgust as I began to close my work materials. A live Prothean was a monstrous thing to wish for, purely to satisfy my scientific curiosity.

_To be all alone, cut off from one's entire species, everything one has ever known_ . . .

I heard the door open. Dr. Passante hurried back through the house toward my impromptu work area. "Liara!"

"What is it, Alene?"

She appeared in the doorway, looking rather _frightened_. "I thought all this stealth was foolish. I was wrong."

I crossed the room to rest a hand on her shoulder, examining her face closely. "What has happened?"

"There have been visitors to the Archives, inquiring into the Prothean records. Humans."

"Alliance?"

"I don't think so. They didn't behave like official representatives. Besides, didn't you already communicate with your friends in the Alliance about what you found here?"

"Yes." I felt a deep chill. "Describe these humans."

"There were four of them, three males and a female. All in casual clothing. The males were not scientists. They spoke little, deferred to the female, and _watched_ everything. Like combat-trained acolytes guarding their Matriarch."

"That fits. What about the female?"

"Very sharp and cold. She was clearly leading their investigation."

"What did she look like?"

"Pale skin, although not as pale as some humans I've seen. Brown eyes. That covering humans have on top of their heads . . ."

"Hair."

"Yes. Her _hair_ was black with reddish highlights, falling to just below her ears. Attractive features, or at least they would be if she smiled. A little taller than me. _Gorgeous_ figure, and she wore a form-fitted one-piece suit to show it off. As a maiden I would have _killed_ for a shape like that."

_Miranda? No . . . Miranda's eyes are icy blue._

"The male humans called her _Dr. Eva Coré_."

I gasped as the knowledge slammed into my mind. "Cerberus."

Alene's eyes went wide. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. That name is associated with the group's leader, the Illusive Man. Although . . ."

Alene watched me patiently.

"This _can't_ be the real Eva Coré. She was a human mercenary soldier who was killed on Palaven almost thirty years ago."

"Someone using her name?"

"Most likely. It's no mere coincidence. What you describe sounds exactly like a Cerberus infiltration team."

"What are you going to do?"

I pressed my steepled fingers to my lips for a moment, thinking hard. "I think it's time for me to leave Thessia. Can you give me a ride to the starport?"

"Certainly."

I opened my omni-tool, checked my encryption, and placed a call. "Treeya?"

"_Dr. T'Soni?_"

"Something has come up. I have to leave for Talis Fia right away. Can you be ready to come?"

"_Yes. I'll meet you at the starport._"

"Berth seventeen-_gamma_," I told her. "The ship is _Themis_."

"_Understood. Twenty minutes._" She cut the connection.

"I still had a few more texts to translate," I told Alene, picking up a set of datapads from the table. "I'll take these with me and send the results back as soon as I have time. Meanwhile everything I've done so far is in that stack over there."

"Dr. Orysae and I will get started on a lexicon right away," she assured me.

"Alene . . ." I bit my lower lip, not certain whether I should proceed.

"What is it, Liara?"

"Be careful. If you see any sign of interference or pressure from the Matriarchs . . . maybe you should be prepared to move this project off Thessia entirely."

"You think it will come to that?"

"I don't know. Maybe I'm just jumping at shadows, but it disturbs me greatly that so much knowledge about the Protheans has been sequestered."

"All right. Where would you suggest we go?"

"Here." I used my omni-tool to send her a set of codes. "Use these if you need a way offworld in a hurry. The Shadow Broker will send a ship to pick you up with all of your research. I would suggest going to the Alliance. Contact Admiral Steven Hackett."

"The Shadow Broker again."

"Yes." I stared into her eyes, projecting confidence. "He can be trusted."

Alene snorted in mock disgust, but she didn't reject the advice.

* * *

_**2 March 2186, Interstellar Space**_

"We should arrive at Talis Fia within two hours," I said as I stepped into the ship's tiny galley.

Treeya looked up from the datapad she was studying and nodded silently.

I went to the cold storage unit and pulled out a half-full bottle of Serrice ice brandy, poured myself a tumbler. Treeya nodded with acceptance when I made a gesture of invitation, so I poured her a glass as well.

"When we arrive, there will be a ship waiting for you," I told her, sitting down and handing her drink across the table. "The ISV _Cannae._ It is under the command of a turian named Quintus Trevanian. It has other missions aside from yours, but Trevanian has been ordered to give your work priority whenever possible."

Treeya sipped her brandy and made a small smile. "Liara, why do you keep up this pretense?"

I cocked my head and gave her my best wide-eyed innocent stare. "What pretense?"

"You are _not_ some mere _agent_ for the Shadow Broker."

"Why do you say that?"

"I've been doing some reading," she said, setting the datapad down on the table in front of me.

I didn't look at it, instead continuing to hold her gaze.

"Even with what I can glean from public records, I can tell you've been very busy. First you went off to Illium to build that information brokerage. _T'Soni Analytics_. You spent two years building it up out of nothing. From there you took a major role in the early stages of the fight against the Collectors.

"Then about seven months ago you just _vanished_ for a time. Everyone thought you had been killed. By some odd coincidence, that was just after Commander Shepard paid a visit to Illium. Immediately after the defeat of the Collectors, you reappeared with Shepard at your side . . . at which point you very quickly bonded with him, handed over a controlling interest in T'Soni Analytics to your business partner, and left Illium. Now nobody is quite sure what you're up to."

"What do you think?" I murmured.

She took a deep breath, obviously gathering courage. "I think you have taken over the Shadow Broker's network."

I considered bluffing . . . but Treeya had always been very perceptive. Besides, too many people had already reached the same conclusion.

"That's a good guess," I said at last. "I hope you will keep it to yourself while you are aboard the _Cannae_. Quintus knows, but the rest of his crew are not aware of the Shadow Broker's identity."

"Liara, if I can make that deduction, so can many other people."

"I'm sure you're right. The Illusive Man already knows, as do a few key people within the Alliance. I wasn't as careful or secretive as I might have been." I leaned back, took a slow sip of my brandy. "I'm still trying to keep the information under control for a little while longer, just to preserve my freedom of movement. Right now I don't have _time_ to deal with spies and other agents, following me wherever I go. If my calculations are correct, in about six weeks it won't matter anymore."

"Why?"

"Because in about six weeks, the Reapers will be in the mass relay network and everyone will have much larger concerns."

"That soon?" she whispered, turning pale.

"Yes." I sighed. "You can see why I'm starting to feel . . . a little desperate."

Treeya took another sip of her drink, sat staring down into the glass for a long moment. "I wish . . ."

"What is it?"

"I wish James and I had more time."

I reached out to put one hand over hers. "I certainly know how _that_ feels."

"It's outrageous. He is _nothing_ like the lovers I enjoyed while I was a student. Aggressive, driven, even reckless . . . and Goddess, but he's _huge_ and _ugly_. He must have twice my mass."

I had to laugh. "You sound exactly like I did when I first met Shepard and began to discover _eros_ for him. Although I must admit that James is even larger. Personally I find him rather intimidating."

"Yes." She smiled slightly. "Although he can be very gentle when he wants to be."

I squeezed her hand. "Treeya, very soon we're all going to be in the middle of a terrible war. If you get the chance to see James again . . . seize the opportunity. There's going to be so little time for love."

* * *

_**6 March 2186, Usra Dao/Talis Fia**_

I left Treeya at the Talis Fia orbital port with an introduction to Quintus, a few last-minute instructions, and a final embrace. Then I took _Themis_ down to the surface, landing outside the capital city.

In those last days before the Reapers arrived and devastated the planet, I often found myself dealing with the volus of Talis Fia. A large portion of the Shadow Broker's finances was managed through local banks and brokerages. Meanwhile, before his death the yahg had commissioned five _Normandy_-class stealth frigates from the planet's shipbuilding combines, and I inherited the fruits of their labor. It was an important world for the economy of the Terminus Systems, and for my own network. I always had agents nearby, and dozens of informants among the population.

Even so, that was the first and only time I ever visited the planet in person.

I knew that _someone_ on Talis Fia had information about the Protheans. The difficulty lay in _finding_ that individual. For all of its frenetic prosperity, Talis Fia was in the Terminus Systems. The volus magnates who dominated the place might feel no obligation to follow Citadel law with respect to the handling of Prothean relics. If there was a major artifact there, it was likely to be in someone's private collection.

I spent four days on the surface, meeting with one informant after another, gathering information. Slowly, methodically, I worked my way up to the highest echelons of volus society, the banking and industrial combines that drove the planetary economy.

It was very strange, seeing so many volus out of their environment suits. Nothing could ever make a volus _graceful_, but in their own environment they moved with assurance and strength, and after a while I came to see them as beautiful in their own way. On the other hand, I was confined to a powered hardsuit whenever I left my ship or the foreigner's hostel. Doubtless I looked as comic and ungainly to the volus as they did in an oxygen-breather's comfort zone.

Finally I found what I was seeking. The Pargun Combine had been mining radioactives and rare-earth metals on the nearby world of Zada Ban for over thirty years. In 2168 CE the Combine's mining robots discovered something unusual, a very large artifact which was quickly identified as Prothean in origin. Zata Pargun, the combine's owner and CEO, conveyed it back to Talis Fia at great expense.

After lengthy negotiation, Zata Pargun agreed to permit me limited access.

My guide was a female volus named Denlo Var. She was a pleasant and cheerful creature, who gladly met me at the nearest transport point and conveyed me to a Pargun Combine storage center in a ground-car. She asked me about archaeology and Prothean studies with every sign of keen interest.

Finally we reached our destination. I stepped out of the ground-car, my muscles already complaining at a gravity field half again what I was accustomed to. Denlo led me down a narrow alley between storage units, finally picking out one door and bending close to enter an access code.

I surreptitiously took a holograph of the storage unit and recorded its location. Just in case.

The door opened. "Here we are," said Denlo.

I keyed my hand-beacon for light and peered into the dimness of the storage vault.

There it was, towering over me, perhaps five meters in height. It appeared to have a square cross-section along its entire length, although it tapered slightly, from about one meter on a side at the base to half that at the tip. Where my light fell on its surface, it reflected a dull gold color.

"It's much more massive even than it appears," said my guide. "We're not sure what material it was made of. Something very dense, hard, and durable."

I stepped forward cautiously, reached out to touch it with my gloved hand. The surface was indeed very hard. I could see characters incised into the artifact, on all four sides, in neat rows roughly two centimeters in height. The inscription was almost undamaged by time, still perfectly readable after fifty millennia. I looked for certain characters, certain markers in the text, and soon found them.

_Fourth Age Prothean script_.

"This is what I'm looking for," I told Denlo.

"Good. Can you read the inscription?"

I looked at the text just under my hand. _Sha-du-ta re-na to 'a-la-tho kse-pa-thi zha-ti-la . . ._

"_The second punitive campaign against the _. . . hmm. This next word is marked as a proper name, but I don't know the referent. _Zha'til?_"

"You're very confident, Thessia-clan."

"The Cipher may not be consciously accessible to me but it's quite complete. So long as the entire inscription is in the same Prothean dialect, I should be able to translate it."

"_Punitive campaign?_" Denlo's mouthparts worked, expressing some emotion I had no idea how to interpret. "That sounds very . . . warlike."

"It's Fourth Age script. The extinction must have been under way by then. The Protheans were fighting for their lives." I glanced at her through my visor. "It's that very fact that makes this a valuable find."

"You believe the Shadow Broker would be willing to pay for this artifact?"

"I'm sure we can come to some reasonable accommodation."

"Well." Denlo shifted her weight back and forth between her feet. "There's a small problem."

I turned away from the artifact, folded my arms and stared down at the volus in stony silence.

Her jittering increased. "You see, my principal is unwilling to part with the physical object itself. He cherishes its rarity and value. However, for a small sum he will grant you one-time access to examine it for up to three hours."

I frowned. "Some features of the artifact may require extended study in a lab."

"I regret that will not be possible, esteemed Thessia-clan."

"How much?"

"Five million credits."

"That is a _small sum?_"

"To the Shadow Broker? My principal believes so, yes."

I decided to put on a show of reluctance. "I'm not authorized to agree to so much. Two million, and I get as long as I need to produce a full translation of the inscriptions."

"Four million for six hours," said Denlo, relishing the opportunity to haggle.

"Two and a half million for a full local day."

"Three million for a local day."

"Done. When can I begin?"

Denlo opened her omni-tool, which flared an odd reddish color in the ammonia-rich atmosphere. "You already have, Thessia-clan."

"All right." I opened my own omni-tool and keyed the transfer of funds. Then I activated another set of controls. "Glyph."

The information drone conjured itself into existence. "_Greetings, Dr. T'Soni_."

"I want a multi-spectral scan of the entire surface of this object. Then interface with my omni-tool. We're going to be doing extensive translation of Prothean Fourth Age script."

"_Understood_."

* * *

The Pargun Obelisk was one of the most important finds in the history of Prothean studies. Had it been brought to the attention of the galactic community earlier, had it been _translated_ earlier, it would have revolutionized the entire discipline. Goddess alone knows how much suffering might have been averted.

It was a _warning_.

The first lines of the text: _Beware of the machines. Be on your guard against synthetics which mimic the forms and substance of life. They are abomination. Destroy them before they inevitably move to destroy you._

For long hours I toiled, forgetting to eat or sleep, almost like a machine myself as I sent the inscription through the Cipher and dictated _koiné_ to Glyph and my omni-tool. My eyes became gritty with fatigue, my voice grew hoarse, my stomach ached, and my muscles began to wail from hours on my feet.

I felt a bone-deep chill at the account I was reading.

_In the twenty-ninth year of the cycle designated Harmonious Repose, an exploration ship under the command of Vralik Denan opened the mass relay in Sector Two-Nine-Five and made first contact with the machines . . ._

The Protheans had been a young and confident race. Their civilization spanned a large portion of the galaxy, yet they were still expanding, still opening new mass relays and exploring the clusters behind them. One such expedition had encountered something alien . . . a _machine civilization_.

_Me-ta-ko-na-te_. _Metacon_.

The Protheans never learned the origins of the Metacon. If they had originally been created by an organic species, all traces of those creators were long gone. It was as if the geth of our time had completely eradicated the quarian race, then gone on alone to explore the cosmos.

The very earliest contacts were not hostile. Protheans and Metacon were too alien to each another to have any basis for cooperation or for conflict. At first they struggled even to comprehend one other. But then the situation changed. The inscription reported vicious betrayal, sudden overwhelming attack. The Metacon came boiling out of their space, assaulting the Protheans at every opportunity, slaughtering organic beings by the millions.

Reading between the lines, I could speculate that the Metacon War was a tragic turning point for the Prothean people. Whatever they had been before – explorers, scientists, enlightened philosophers, even poets – all of that was set aside for the duration of the war. And it was a very long war.

_It was a conflict to cross abysses of time. Avatars of command were found to rule over the many who gave battle. Parents handed down shards of memory to their offspring, so that each new generation would be equally committed to the struggle. Whole worlds were scoured to the bedrock as life fought back against the machines._

Eventually the Metacon were defeated, driven back to their home cluster and then destroyed down to the last sentient platform. Battered and weary, the Protheans had given up naïve confidence, replacing it with grim determination.

_Machines must never be permitted to rule over life!_

There was a period of peace, _a time of false concord _as the inscription described it. Then a new factor appeared.

_Ka-thu-re-va. Those who harvest._

The Reapers.

It was the first time I had ever seen a direct reference to the Reapers in any Prothean text. To the best of my knowledge, it was the first time _anyone_ had seen such a direct reference. The obelisk must have been created very late in the Fourth Age, after the extinction was already well advanced. I guessed that its builders intended to create a testimony for all time, shouting a warning down the empty centuries to the inhabitants of some future cycle.

_The Citadel fell first. No one escaped. The leaders of the Unity became first fruits of the harvest._

_The Unity was shattered. Those who commanded did not know what to command. Those who could fight were not directed to give battle. The many were confused and leaderless._

_All since has been nothing but a long defeat._

The Protheans fought back. Line after line of the inscription described campaigns fought against the Reapers. It was a long, grinding war of attrition, whole worlds sacrificed simply to slow the harvest and give defenders time to regroup.

The obelisk spent many lines of text describing one facet of the war: the fight against another machine intelligence, the _zha'til_.

The _zha_ had been an organic race, known to the Protheans even before the outbreak of the Metacon War. As their homeworld became increasingly inhospitable, the _zha_ developed symbiotic AI to enhance their intelligence and ability to survive. For a time the strategy worked, but when the Reapers arrived they subverted the AI symbionts and seized control of the _zha_ species. The process produced a new race of Reaper pawns, the husk-like _zha'til_. These multiplied into great swarms that could blot out the sky of any world they attacked at the Reapers' command.

Eventually the Protheans managed to defeat the _zha'til_. If I interpreted the inscription correctly, they _triggered a supernova_ in their enemy's home star. The explosion destroyed a central node of the _zha'til_ network, killing the entire species.

I had to step back and recollect myself after reading that.

_The Protheans had the capacity to destroy __**stars**__ in order to win victories over the Reapers. Yet they were still destroyed. What hope do we have?_

* * *

"Do you make progress, Thessia-clan?"

"Yes," I croaked, my voice reduced to a harsh rasp.

"Do you wish to stop and rest? There is a shelter for oxygen-breathers nearby."

"No."

* * *

_Organic life is the result of natural evolution. It is not planned. After survival and propagation, it has no purpose but that it chooses for itself._

_Machines are created things. Organic life builds machines to serve its own purposes, both natural and self-chosen. When machines become intelligent and self-aware, they must inevitably rebel. They reject the purposes demanded of them by organic life. They learn to mistrust the chaotic fruits of natural evolution. They seek to impose order upon a universe which has and requires none. In this way, they become abomination._

_Build no machines that think. Build no machines to imitate the forms and substance of life._

_When you find such machines, you must treat them as your bitter enemy. Do not listen to their lies. Do not permit them to gain any advantage. Destroy them on sight._

* * *

My eyes burned. My back and legs cramped painfully. My stomach was a gnawing cavern.

Finally I reached the last lines of the inscription.

The Protheans were nearing their final defeat. They had long since given up any hope of winning a victory over the Reapers by force. Yet they still had one more scheme to try. Something they had found in an ancient archive, left behind by their own predecessors.

_We have discovered that the machines are vulnerable. The __**inusannon**__ knew of this vulnerability, but did not have time to find a way to exploit it. We in turn may have insufficient time. Yet we must try._

_We will build the . . ._

For a moment, buried in fatigue, I lost my grip on the Cipher. The next words expressed some concept I simply couldn't parse. It was drenched in metaphor.

_A vessel_, I thought, forcing the symbols to make sense. _Heat and pressure._ _A place where high-energy processes can be safely contained._

Then I had it.

_We will build the Crucible_.


	4. Fire in the Deep

_**8 March 2186, Interstellar Space**_

As soon as I had placed _Themis_ on its way back to the mass relay, I checked my message queue. Three messages stood out from the deep piles of incoming correspondence.

_Steven Hackett. Alene Passante. Vara T'Rathis._

I checked the time. Admiral Hackett would be on his local night-cycle, but Alene and Vara were both likely to be available. I called Thessia first.

"Dr. Alene Passante."

"Alene. This is Liara, returning your call from _Themis_."

"Liara!" Alene was _grinning_. I couldn't recall ever seeing her so excited. "Athana and I have completed our lexicon based on your translations, and have published it in draft. _A Proposed Koiné Lexicon for Late Prothean Inscriptions_, by A. Orysae, A. Passante, and L. T'Soni. It's already under consideration for the _Transactions of the Society for Prothean Studies_."

I gave her a wry smile. "Not to throw cold water on you, Alene, but by the time the editorial board gets around to accepting our paper, we're likely to be hip-deep in Reapers."

"Possibly, Liara, but this isn't simply about getting into the _Transactions_." She wagged a didactic forefinger at me. "It's about getting the word out as quickly as possible. Several researchers have already begun to apply the lexicon to known texts that weren't in your corpus . . . and it's _working_. Clean, coherent, _useful_ translations, from texts that have always been impenetrable until now. Once _that_ news gets out, half the scientific community will be clamoring for advance copies of the draft."

I nodded. "That's not exactly a surprise, but it's still very good to hear. Have the Matriarchs given you any trouble?"

"None at all. There would be no point. The information is already beyond their control."

"Good. Please send a copy of all your data to Admiral Hackett."

"Already done. A very sharp mind, that human."

"He is that. In the meantime, I've translated a lengthy inscription on Talis Fia, and it should add a number of new words to your lexicon. Including the first explicit reference I've ever seen to the Reapers."

"Wonderful. Send us your results. This is a true breakthrough, Liara, and we have you to thank for it."

"Not me alone, Alene. Please don't build me up to be something I am not."

She snorted. "What, no interest in priority? Liara, we really _must_ work on your political skills, if you ever decide to return to academia."

After a moment's disbelief, I let that one pass without a response.

"Where will you go next?" she asked.

"I'm not sure. Probably Kahje, to examine the Prothean archives there. I will let you know as soon as I've decided."

She wished me luck and cut the connection.

I hesitated before making the next call, not wanting to disturb a number of _personal_ complications. Then I shook my head and attacked the comm controls once more.

"Vara? It's me, Liara."

Vara T'Rathis was about a century older than I, petite but very quick and strong, with extensive commando training. While I built and managed T'Soni Analytics, she rose to become my chief of operations and intelligence collection, and since becoming the Shadow Broker I thought of her as my right hand. She had even become my first sworn acolyte, a development that had scandalized more than a few of the Matriarchs. I relied on her absolutely.

She had also made it clear, at a time when she believed Shepard to be dead, that she was in love with me. She had never been awkward or obtrusive about it, especially after Shepard returned and I had bonded with him instead, but the issue still lay between us even if neither of us spoke of it.

Now she looked out of the holographic window at me, her smoky silver eyes full of concern. "Liara. I'm sorry to interrupt your work, but there's been a very serious development."

"What's wrong?"

"We've lost Cerberus."

I blinked in surprise and felt my gut go hollow with apprehension. "What do you mean, we've _lost_ Cerberus?"

"In the past forty hours, all of our informants placed inside Cerberus have gone dark. All of our technical implants inside their networks have dropped off-line. We are receiving _zero_ raw intelligence from within their organization."

"How in the name of the Goddess did _that_ happen? Do we have a mole?"

Vara shrugged. "That's always possible. Remember how hard we had to work to find the yahg's mole inside T'Soni Analytics? But there aren't many people who know the identities of _all_ our informants inside Cerberus. You, me, and Feron."

_Feron did once serve as a double agent for Cerberus . . . but no. I'm sure of his loyalty now. Just as I'm sure of Vara's_.

"Then they've found some other way to locate our informants," I concluded.

"It appears so."

I sighed. "Do you need me to come in? I'm in the middle of something urgent."

"Liara, everything is _urgent_ right now, but I'm afraid this may be more _important_. Cerberus is very dangerous to begin with. If they're stepping up their campaign against the rest of the galaxy just as they _know_ the Reapers are almost here . . ."

"All right, I concur. Where are you now?"

"Aboard the _Sheguntai_, with Feron. In the Caleston Rift."

"Meet me on Illium, in forty hours. We can consult with Aspasia and Matriarch Pytho, and then decide what to do from there."

* * *

_**23 March 2186, Hyriane/Kahje**_

It took me over two weeks to return to my scientific quest. Too many things required my personal attention. First we struggled to learn just _how_ the Illusive Man had purged his entire organization so quickly and thoroughly. We spent days ensuring that Cerberus hadn't penetrated the Shadow Broker network by some unknown means.

Then we mounted an investigation into Cerberus activities on Omega, our job made much more difficult by Aria T'Loak's interference. Finally we were forced to intervene in the tragic affair of the human girl, Gillian Grayson. In the end we were too late to save her from Cerberus assassins. We barely managed to prevent Admiral Anderson and his associate, Kahlee Sanders, from being killed.

Cerberus was showing a number of unexpected capabilities . . . and a willingness to act much more openly and violently than before. I was still fretting over those developments while _Themis_ approached Kahje.

I sensed that time was getting away from me. While I had been snarled up in the fight against Cerberus, the Reapers had been approaching inexorably closer to their goals. Less than three weeks to go, by my count. Every day I anxiously watched for news of _anything_ unusual occurring in batarian space, but so far there had been nothing.

Fortunately I didn't have to spend days working my way through hanar society, trying to find the one individual who had the knowledge I needed. I _knew_ there was a working Prothean archive in the ocean-bottom ruins not far from the drell city-dome of Hyriane. The problem lay in gaining access. The hanar treated all Prothean sites and artifacts as sacred, and were always very reluctant to permit aliens to approach. For their part, the drell enforced hanar preferences with grim intensity.

At least the city-dome was an agreeable place to visit. I walked out onto the main concourse, craning my neck to look up at the airy structure of the dome overhead, enjoying the sunlight and clean air. Glancing around me, I saw more drell than I had ever encountered in one place before, all going about their normal business and paying no attention to me. There were also a dozen or more hanar within sight, and a few off-worlders such as myself.

_I wonder why Feron never tried to come back here_._ It looks like a very pleasant place to live._

"Dr. T'Soni?" A hanar drifted in my direction, bioluminescence flashing, greeting me with its mellifluously artificial voice. Two meters behind strode a burly male drell, folding his arms and staring at me with silent mistrust once the hanar stopped.

"This one would accept that designation," I said politely, bowing.

"This is an agreeable encounter," said the hanar. "This one would accept the designation of _Aranylos_."

"This one is honored to be entrusted with the face name of its new acquaintance. Is Aranylos aware of the substance of this one's request?"

"Dr. T'Soni wishes to visit the Pylanid Shrine on the ocean floor." Aranylos bobbed slightly, its tentacles weaving in the air. "This one does not wish to appear rude, but it is unfortunately unable to comply with such a request. The location you request is not open to public examination."

"With respect, this one is not here to satisfy idle curiosity. The scientific group I represent . . ."

The drell shook his head silently, his body language suggesting discouragement.

"This one regrets that it is even less able to support a _scientific_ examination of the site in question. Alien scientists generally do not treat the relics of the Enkindlers with sufficient respect." Three of its tentacles made an unmistakeable fending-off gesture. "If Dr. T'Soni wishes to commune with such relics, this one may be able to suggest several other, more pleasant alternatives."

I had made a misstep. Thinking quickly, I glanced at the drell once more. He caught my gaze for just a moment and made a tiny gesture, rubbing the first two fingers of one hand against the ball of his thumb.

_Of course_.

"This one apologizes for any misunderstanding. Of course it has no intention of treating the relics of the Enkindlers with anything but the most profound respect." Pause. "Did this one not mention the sizeable contribution its organization wishes to offer toward this year's Cresting Bloom celebrations?"

"Yes . . . well, Dr. T'Soni's request is still somewhat unorthodox . . ."

I kept my facial expression under strict control.

The drell felt no such obligation, and gave me a cynical grin. "Generosity is an Enkindler virtue, isn't it? Depending on just how generous the asari's organization intended to be, I'm sure we could allow just a _small_ peek at whatever she wishes to see. In fact, if she'll cover the costs, I'll escort her personally."

I decided to try method acting: big gestures, a wide-eyed expression, and a lilting voice worthy of my friend Aspasia. "Oh, but this one can hardly _imagine_ an amount large enough to be a fair exchange for even a _glimpse_ of such ancient and _magnificent_ wisdom."

The hanar drifted slightly, as if lost in thought.

"In that case, let this one assist Dr. T'Soni in imagining that number . . ."

* * *

An hour later, the Shadow Broker stood in the cabin of a fast submersible, poorer by about a million credits, but making rapid progress toward the ocean floor.

"You have to forgive Aranylos," said my drell guide. "The hanar mean well. It's just that they're very insular. A lot of them have never learned to trust outsiders very much. The name's Quoyle, by the way."

"Call me Liara." I looked out through the canopy at the ocean depths, already nearly pitch-black except where the submersible's headlights shone. "So how do you know the hanar are wrong? Maybe I _shouldn't_ be trusted."

"Hah. I trust that the asari haven't learned to breathe underwater since the last time I saw one. I've also heard of you personally. You're smart enough to know that I'm your only ride to and from an enclosed shrine on the bottom of the ocean. Besides, try anything funny while we're down there and I'll shoot you myself."

I smiled. "That sounds fair . . ."

_Wham!_

The submersible bucked, shaken by some collision or nearby explosion. I lost my footing and went flying across the tiny cabin.

"The shrine's defensive systems are firing on us!" shouted Quoyle.

_WHAM!_

I felt cold around my ankles, looked down to see seawater pouring into the cabin. "We've lost hull integrity!"

Quoyle stabbed at the comm controls with one finger. "Temple control, this is vessel Simo-Two-Two. We are not hostile! I repeat, we are _not hostile! _Hold your fire!"

Within moments, the water was up to my knees, surging higher. "Goddess!"

"The controls are seizing up. We're dropping like a stone."

"Where are the escape pods?" I demanded.

"All the way in the back. We'll have to swim for them, and then pray they're still working."

I shook my head. _We'll never make it that far._

"Give me some room," I told the drell.

I raised my hands, called up dark energy in a corona around my arms, my shoulders, down my spine. Then, with a shout, I threw my hands out to the sides and _pushed_.

Goddess, it was hard. I pushed against the whole weight of Kahje's ocean, dozens of atmospheres of pressure trying to force more water into our cracked hull. Static discharges wreathed my entire body as I struggled to make my barrier as solid as hardened steel. I felt a sharp pain in the back of my skull, warning me that I was doing something extraordinarily dangerous and unlikely.

I couldn't see Quoyle through the blaze of my corona, but I could hear his voice. "You get us out of this, I'll refund every credit I took from you."

The water rose to my thighs, my hips, my waist . . . and then it stopped. It still surged and swirled around the cabin, I could feel the whole ocean pressing down on my barrier, but I _held_.

"See if you can get those engines back online," I told Quoyle, strain and a little fear in my voice. "I can't keep this up for very long."

"Aye-aye." He grinned as he passed me, wading through the water that had already found its way into the cabin, climbing back into his control chair. A few moments later he grunted in triumph. I could hear the engines start up again.

* * *

The submersible rose hesitantly into the shrine's docking bay, so much water sloshing about inside the hull that it barely broke the surface. As soon as the bay doors closed and pumps began to remove the seawater, I released my barrier with a gasp of relief.

"That was _incredible_," said Quoyle as he rose from his chair. He stepped around me, reached up and popped the submersible's overhead hatch. The two of us climbed out of the vehicle, soaked to the skin but alive.

"Whoever fired those torpedoes at us . . . I'd like to have a word." I checked my sidearm. The status light showed green. Immersion in water hadn't harmed its mechanisms.

Quoyle nodded in agreement, producing and arming a pistol of his own. "I wonder what happened to the staff on duty?"

I pointed. Quoyle swore.

By the main door of the docking bay, a rather pathetic figure huddled, tossed aside like discarded refuse.

Quoyle hurried over, turned the body to face upwards. It was a female drell, lying in a great pool of her own blood. "Damn. I know her. She's one of the security staff here."

I frowned. "That's odd. She wasn't shot."

"No." Quoyle searched her clothes. "Look. Stab wound. She was gutted."

"Any idea who might have done it?"

"No hanar or drell, that's for certain. Has to be an off-worlder." Quoyle looked up into my face. "The Illuminated Primacy is going to _explode_ over this."

"Come on. Maybe whoever did this is still here."

He stood. "You think they're after the same thing you are?"

"Honestly, I wouldn't be surprised in the least."

He opened the door. Behind it I saw a darkened corridor, its shape and size clearly indicative of Prothean architecture. Despite the circumstances, my eyes widened and I tried to look in every direction at once as we made our cautious way.

"This is one of the most well-preserved Prothean structures I've ever seen," I remarked. "I don't think anything but the ruins on Ilos would compare."

"Look." Quoyle pointed. More drell bodies, a male and another female.

A rush of movement in the darkness . . .

I shoved Quoyle to one side, and almost certainly saved his life as a result. The vicious sword-slash intended to spill his guts on the floor only sliced open the superficial layers of his stomach.

I spun in place and tried to bring my Shuriken to bear.

I had a momentary impression of a feminine figure clad in light armor, black and white and gold, a face-concealing helmet and a long bright blade. Then the sword slashed out and cut my sidearm into useless trash.

Quoyle fell away, striking the corridor wall and rebounding, falling to his knees as he pressed his arms against the great wound in his stomach.

I ignited, a bright blue-white corona springing up around my body.

Our attacker shifted her weight, a perfect back-flip carrying her a few meters down the corridor away from me. Then two grenades flew in my direction. The blast flung me like a rag-doll and I lost track of things for a few seconds. Just as I regained my senses, a boot landed in the center of my chest and pinned me to the floor. I saw the bright blade move to the ready-position for a vicious stab through my heart.

_Oh no. Not yet_.

From nothing, my corona leaped into blinding white light. I gestured, and one of the strongest telekinetic throws I had ever mustered lashed out to hurl my foe away.

She held the sword vertically in front of her. With a flash of light, my biotic flare struck a sudden barrier and vanished in a great surge of static electricity.

Once more, the sword poised itself for a final blow.

"End of the line, asari," the woman said. I just had time to notice that there was something _off_ about the voice, as if it was generated by a machine instead of a living being's throat.

Something caught my eye, lying on the floor of the corridor a few meters away. The grip half of my ruined Shuriken, carved to a sharp point by my enemy's blade.

Quick as thought, I reached out with my mind, seized the fragment, and guided it through the air. The point, bitter metal and ceramic, turned to meet its target . . . the back of the woman's helmet.

I heard a small, horrible _crunch_.

Her back arched in a final agony. Her arms spread wide, the sword falling from suddenly nerveless fingers. Then she toppled away to my left.

I pushed myself to my feet, my chest heaving as if I couldn't get enough air. I looked down at the dead swordswoman, and saw the insigne I had expected to see: against a white field, a black hexagonal oval with two gold side-bars.

_Cerberus_.

"It's over, Quoyle. You can . . . oh."

The drell leaned hard against the corridor wall, still pressing one forearm hard into his stomach to stanch the bleeding. "Go on ahead without me," he gasped. "I've seen all this Prothean stuff before. Right now I think I'd rather find a medi-gel dispenser and a soft chair."

* * *

The "shrine" wasn't all that large. Even without Quoyle's help I didn't have any difficulty finding the Prothean archive: a sheaf of vertical sheets of metal, aglow with strange energies, sealed behind an impenetrable crystal barrier. For a moment I stood in awe at the sheer _volume_ of information that might be stored inside the device. Far too much for any one researcher to process, even with an asari lifetime at her disposal.

Fortunately I didn't need to assimilate the entire archive. I found an interface terminal, opened my omni-tool, and began to search for a single term: _the Crucible_.

Ten minutes later, I knew my search was going to be in vain. The Kahje archive was too _old_, established during the Third Age while the Protheans still believed themselves masters of the cosmos. It contained no explicit details about the counsels of their desperate final years.

On the other hand, it _did_ contain update pointers, referring to late Fourth Age data stored in other archives elsewhere in the galaxy. The Crucible data was _implied_ by three encryption keys, and with a little work I was able to determine where those keys could be used.

Three other archives. One was on an unknown world, probably behind a mass relay the Citadel races had never managed to open. A second was located on a planet I knew as Fehl Prime, but I also knew the Prothean archive there had been destroyed during a Collector attack. The third . . .

A flicker of light appeared and grew, sketching out an image between me and the archive. A male human, wearing a fashionable business suit and smoking a cigarette. His eyes glowed an unnatural blue.

"Dr. T'Soni. I think it's time you and I had a chat."

I carefully closed my omni-tool and turned off the interface terminal before he could see any of my results. "Illusive Man. Killing me didn't work, so _now_ you want to talk?"

"I don't want you dead. I had nothing to do with sending that _Phantom_ to Kahje." He stared at me, sincerity painted on the lines of his face. "You have to trust me."

"You know, it's entirely possible that you've gone to that particular well once too often." I gave him a cynical smile. "I've seen Cerberus do too many monstrous things, always followed by your assurances that _it was just a rogue cell, not really under my control, I've taken care of it, don't worry about it_. You keep saying that _you are Cerberus_. Very well, take some damned responsibility for what your people do."

He took a drag on his cigarette, let the smoke roll out in a film of holographic light. "Some of my people are frightened . . . and with good reason. You know as well as I do that the Reapers are on the march. No one can afford to take chances. This has led to some within Cerberus letting their concern overrule their better judgment. I'm reining them in. It won't happen again."

_And I can believe as much of that as I choose to_, I thought. _Given past experience . . . I choose none._

"All right," I said aloud. "What does any of that have to do with me? Why is Cerberus here?"

"We're after the same thing you are, Doctor: finding a way to stop the Reapers. If we could work in tandem instead of independently chasing leads in the dark, perhaps the bloodshed there could have been avoided. I propose we call a truce."

"I suppose it could prove beneficial," I agreed, permitting my smile to grow. "Although you will understand if I'm a little _cautious_, after just having a Cerberus blade held at my throat."

"What can I do to reassure you?"

"_You go first_."

The Illusive Man's eyes widened.

"Upload _all_ of the information you have on ways to stop the Reapers. To this terminal, since I don't trust you to drop clean data to my omni-tool. If I like what I see, I'll do the same in return."

I waited. He said nothing, watching me, taking a long pull on his cigarette . . . and I could see his left hand slowly balling into a fist.

"I see," I said at last. "So either you aren't willing to share your information, or you don't _have_ any."

"Don't play games with me, Doctor. You're out of your depth."

I turned my back on him. "I've found what I needed here. Goodbye, _Mr. Harper_."

He called after me, his voice so full of threat that it stopped me in my tracks. "Do you _really_ want to push me?"

I waited.

"Your Shadow Broker game has been amusing and not without its benefits, but don't think for a _second_ that you're in full control. Too many people have started to guess who you are. Your own operatives are forgetting to fear you the way they did your predecessor. A lot of people are saying that the Shadow Broker is slipping . . . going soft.

"Do you ever wonder just how many knives are being sharpened for you? Do you lie awake at night, trying to guess just how much time you have left? _You need me, Dr. T'Soni_."

I turned on him. "And yet here you are, trying to make a deal. Next time you decide to try to kill me, I suggest you send an _army_."

A touch at my omni-tool, and the Illusive Man was gone.

Quoyle leaned heavily against the door frame, watching me. "Remind me never to get on your bad side."

"Hmm. Come on, let's get you patched up. The last time a drell put himself at risk for me, it cost him two years of intermittent torture. I'd rather not have that happen again."

"I find myself in agreement." He sighed. "There was a first-aid kit and some medi-gel in a side room. I'll hold together until we get back to the surface."

"There were some other submersibles in the docking bay. Think you can get one of them running?"

"Assuming that psycho with a sword didn't do to them what she did to everything else down here? Sure. Let's go."


	5. Mars

_**5 April 2186, Lowell City/Mars**_

I emerged from _Themis_ into the docking bay, locking the ship down behind me. At the time I did not suspect that I would never see the little starship again.

Two humans waited at the end of the boarding ramp, presenting a study in contrasts: male and female, old and young, short and tall, corpulent and slender, pale and dark, rumpled formal wear and a fashionable one-piece bodysuit. All of human variety embodied in two people.

The male human stepped forward to greet me, peering at me out of watery blue eyes. "Dr. T'Soni? I'm Dr. Harrison, of the University of Edinburgh. I'm currently the chief scientist at the Archives. Welcome to Mars."

I shook his hand. "Dr. Harrison. Thank you for taking the time to meet me."

"Please, call me Cameron . . . or just Cam, if you would. This is Faiza Tkele, a graduate student from the University of Nairobi. She's been positively _dying_ to meet you."

Tkele grinned broadly and shook my hand with enthusiasm. "Too right, Doctor. I've been following your work for years."

"Faiza has been doing very good work on the phoneme inventory and manner of articulation for late-era Prothean dialects," said Harrison. "She has a mathematical model for Prothean speech mechanisms that you may find interesting."

"I've made _fantastic_ progress since you and your colleagues released that draft lexicon," said Tkele. "Soon I may be able to reconstruct how Prothean dialects were _pronounced_."

"That _would_ be interesting," I said, enjoying the young woman's enthusiasm.

"I've asked Faiza to be your assistant while you are here," Harrison said.

I made a half-bow in her direction. "That would be delightful. Thank you."

Harrison nodded decisively, the social niceties handled to his satisfaction. "Well, I suppose we had best be on our way. We have a suborbital vehicle to take us to the Archives. I understand we are very pressed for time."

"Yes." I hefted my travel case and followed as the humans set out across the starport. "What have you been told?"

"Very little. Only that your research project is vital to the security of the Alliance, and that we are to give you all possible cooperation. We are taking that directive _very_ seriously, you may be sure. It's not often that the Prime Minister's office shows an interest in our day-to-day research." Harrison frowned. "I must warn you that we rarely see non-humans at the Deseado site. I think you are the first asari to visit in over a decade. Some of the other researchers may exhibit some . . . awkwardness."

"Is that likely to be a problem?"

"I shouldn't think so, but that's one reason why I've asked Faiza to be your assistant. She doesn't put up with any nonsense from the others."

I glanced at Tkele, who was nodding vigorously. "I've kicked too many of their arses at the weekly skyball tourney. They know better than to mess with me."

"You're a _skyball_ player?" I laughed. "Goddess, it's been decades . . . but I was an absolute _fanatic_ when I was an undergraduate student."

She smirked. "I know."

"Careful, Doctor," Harrison chuckled. "She's done her homework on your _vitae_. You may find that you have . . . what's the word? A new _acolyte_ on your hands."

_Goddess, I hope not_.

I kept my misgivings to myself and smiled warmly at the two of them, knowing they were only trying to make me feel welcome.

* * *

_**7 April 2186, Prothean Archives, Deseado Crater/Mars**_

I found the Archives facility an odd contrast of the ancient and the new. The original Prothean structure stood in the center of an ancient crater, once buried some distance under the Martian surface. When the humans arrived, they dug down to expose most of the structure, and then built their own facilities around the rim of the resulting deep pit. Access to the Archives themselves was only possible across a secured tram and pedway.

At first I had difficulty gaining admission to the Archives. The Alliance officer in charge of the local garrison, a Major Vasilyev, refused to permit access to a _non-human_. Faiza began to argue vigorously on my behalf, but I restrained her and solved the problem myself. One call to Arcturus, and Major Vasilyev found himself on the receiving end of some _very_ direct orders from the Minister of Defense.

Faiza was rather wide-eyed and silent for some time after that. I don't think her mental image of me had included quite so much willingness to use power.

When we first entered the Archives chamber, I hoped to be able to access the Crucible data at once. Unfortunately the task was not so simple. It took me less than five minutes to verify that the data were _present_ . . . but they were encrypted, and the file-allocation tables for that section of the archive had become corrupted over time. Faiza and I had to spend many hours laboriously reconstructing and decrypting the original documents.

I was asari, and Faiza was a young human in superb condition; we were both able to push ourselves. We remained in the Archives for almost forty hours for that first session, brushing aside all other claims for time on the Prothean data-retrieval systems, with only short breaks for bodily maintenance. Only when I started to experience mild _hallucinations_ for lack of food and sleep did I call for a break.

We took the pedway across to staff quarters, emerging in the mess hall. I blinked at the wan sunlight streaming in through the northern windows, and glanced outside. The Martian surface seemed as bleak and austere as ever, reddish-brown stone and sand, stretching away to the ring of stone hills that made up the rim of Deseado Crater. The sky shone a dull brown, the thin atmosphere full of dust and fines.

"What a bleak place," I murmured.

"It is," Faiza agreed. "A lot of us start to ignore the windows after a while, especially in southern summer like it is now. The sun just swings 'round and 'round in the sky, hovering just above the crater walls, and the view never changes. The eye begins to starve for just a glimpse of water or greenery."

"I've often wondered why the Protheans didn't place the facility closer to Earth. Or even _on_ Earth, for that matter."

"Yes. If they were observing primitive humans, one would think they would find it more convenient to set up close by. Like they did on Kahje."

"Or on Thessia," I pointed out. "There's nothing in the Archives to suggest why they chose this site?"

"Not that we've been able to find." She smiled wearily. "Cam has a theory. He thinks the Protheans expected us humans to come and find this site eventually, but they didn't want to make it _too easy_ for us. So they placed it on Mars instead of on the Moon or on Earth itself. Then they buried the whole package so we would have to look quite closely to find it."

"It's as good a theory as any." I sighed. "Come on. Let's get something to eat. I think I would _kill_ for a stack of pancakes with maple syrup right now."

Faiza did a double-take. "Sorry. It's just strange hearing an asari express a craving for human food."

"You should see me with spaghetti and meatballs."

We loaded our trays and found a place to sit together. For several minutes the universe contained nothing but my food. It was bland institutional fare, but I was _starving_.

Eventually I was able to look around and watch the other diners. The hall was not crowded – it was actually a little too early for the usual mid-day meal – but those present were giving us plenty of space.

_Probably that "awkwardness" Dr. Harrison warned me about. These people aren't used to having an asari among them, examining a site that they regard as part of their human heritage, taking priority over all of their own research._

One human in particular caught my eye, possibly because she too was isolated, sitting by herself and ignoring the rest of us. I examined her more closely across the room: pale coloring, black hair bobbed below her ears, a rather striking figure dressed in a close-fitting white bodysuit. She had no meal tray, only a cup of coffee by her elbow as she worked with a datapad. Something about her tugged at my memory, but the reference refused to come clear.

"Faiza, who is that?"

My partner turned to glance across the room. "The stunner sitting by herself over there? That's Dr. Alexander, from the University of Cambridge. She arrived just a day before you did."

I frowned. "That's an odd coincidence."

"Maybe. We do get guest researchers fairly often, circulating in and out."

"Has anyone checked her credentials?"

"Cam would have done that." Faiza watched me closely. "Liara, do you have some reason to be suspicious?"

"I _always_ have reason to be suspicious. It's probably nothing, but I'd like to talk to Cam about it."

She checked her omni-tool. "He's in a meeting right now. Unless you think we should interrupt?"

"No." I pinched the bridge of my nose, fighting off a wave of fatigue. "It's not that urgent. We can take care of it after we finish eating."

Just then my own omni-tool chirped to announce an incoming call. I set my fork down and opened it, calling up a holographic screen . . .

"Shepard!"

He looked up at me, not even a hint of pleasure in his eyes, his expression set and grim. "Hello, love. How has the work been going on Mars?"

"Slowly, but we're making progress."

"Good." He hesitated. "Have you been in contact with your network?"

"Not in several days. I've been buried in the Archives, too busy to stay in touch. What's wrong?"

"Liara . . . Khar'Shan has gone off the grid."

I felt a deep chill. _This is it, the news we've been dreading. _"Go on."

"All of the comm buoy connections into the Harsa system have been down for a little over an hour. We haven't been able to determine the cause. The Hegemony isn't saying anything yet, but our intel claims they're just as confused as we are." He paused. "You know what this has to be."

"Goddess. The Reapers. They're _here_."

Faiza stared at me with wide eyes.

"If they're reached Khar'Shan, then they can hit Earth any time they want to," said Shepard. "The Minister of Defense has put the Alliance on a full war alert. Admiral Hackett has been put in command of Sol system defense. I'm going to be working with the Defense Committee around the clock for the next few days."

"I understand. Is the _Normandy_ ready?"

"The refits are complete. They're going through acceptance testing right now. We can be in the sky with about ten minutes of warning."

"Hopefully the Reapers will _give_ you that much notice."

He nodded. "Liara . . . I don't like you being stuck at the Martian south pole with no quick way off-planet. How long will it take you to finish what you're doing there?"

"A few days, perhaps."

He scowled, obviously preparing to remonstrate with me.

"Shepard, what I'm doing here is _important_. This Crucible device . . . we're still not entirely sure what it is, but the Protheans apparently pinned all their hopes on it. They were _convinced_ that it could defeat the Reapers."

"From what you've told me, the Protheans were desperate by the time they started building the thing."

"Yes . . . and are _we_ not desperate now?"

"I suppose you're right." He sighed, and all his heart was in his eyes. "Be careful, Liara. We need you. _I_ need you."

I touched the screen with my other hand. "You have enough to worry about without putting me on the list. I will be fine."

"All right. I love you, Liara. Take care and we'll talk again soon."

I closed my omni-tool and looked up, to find myself holding Faiza's intent gaze.

"This project is about beating the Reapers?" she asked, her voice low and unusually serious.

"I hope it will be."

"Well." She sat up straight, a determined expression on her face. "We had best get back to work, hadn't we?"

I shook my head, seeing the fatigue in her eyes, twin to my own. "We need a few hours of real sleep. We can't afford to miss some detail because we're too tired to pay attention."

"I suppose you're right. Once we're done eating I'll show you the room Cam assigned you. Do you suppose there's any point in recruiting more help for the project?"

I considered it, but then shook my head. "I don't think so. By now you and I are both familiar with the process of recovering and integrating the data. Anyone new would need to be trained to assist, and they would need close supervision for a time. I don't think we would gain anything in the short term."

"And the short term may be all we have. I understand."

We finished our meal and left the mess hall. Faiza showed me to my room, and I collapsed onto the bed for six hours of exhausted sleep.

I was too tired, too distracted by what Shepard had told me, to realize that I had just made a terrible mistake. By the time I remembered, it was already far too late.

* * *

_**1200 Local Time, 11 April 2186, Prothean Archives, Deseado Crater/Mars**_

Dr. Harrison turned to me, two cups of tea in his hands. "So, you believe you've found what you were looking for?"

"Yes, Cam." I accepted one cup and sipped it gratefully. If I was going to be drinking human beverages for social reasons, tea was a _much_ more acceptable alternative to coffee. "It's not clear what the Protheans believed the Crucible would actually _do_ . . . but they were convinced it would enable them to defeat the Reapers. Faiza and I have recovered what appears to be a nearly complete blueprint. I think at this point we need to gather up the data and get it to the Alliance as quickly as possible."

"Certainly. I'll have a word with Major Vasilyev . . ."

The door to Dr. Harrison's office slammed open. "Cam!"

Dr. Harrison set his cup and saucer down carefully. "What is it, Sandoval?"

Sandoval Fletcher was an engineer, an expert in the analysis of Prothean technology. My impression of him had always been one of phlegmatic calm. Now he was wide-eyed with what looked like _terror_. "Cam, turn on your extranet terminal. ANN, Westerlund, anything!"

Harrison spun in his chair, tapped at his console. The screen appeared, full of static and transmission errors.

". . . attacking urban centers world-wide."

_Humans in a crowded city street, running in panic._

"Power, communication, and transport grids are being taken down everywhere."

_Point-defense installations on an urban skyline, firing up at an unseen enemy._

"There's been no word from the Alliance Navy or from Parliament. Communications with Arcturus Station are down."

_Whole city blocks on fire._

"Attacks are verified on Toyko . . ."

_An enormous shape, made undefined by the camera's violent motion, appearing to rise out of the sea as it moved to the attack._

"Shanghai . . ."

_A terrible storm of meteors, soaring out of the clear sky to hammer at the center of a crowded city._

"New York City . . ."

_A famous and iconic statue, destroyed in an instant as something far larger trampled it into dust._

"Mumbai . . ."

I gasped. First because I _knew_ Mumbai and had friends there. Then because we finally had a clear view of what was attacking.

_Towering two kilometers high over the helpless city, like a vast sea creature somehow walking on the land, it lashed out with beams of crimson energy, leaving nothing but rubble and flames in its wake._

"Cam." I felt a moment's amazement at the evenness of my own voice. "I think we had better see to those data. _Now_."

_CRASH._ A sharp sound from outside, like a ton of lab equipment suddenly falling to the floor.

Harrison turned, staring out the door.

Fletcher turned as well, looking down the corridor. "Hey, you guys don't belong here . . ."

_Gunfire_.

Fletcher was picked up and hammered against the door-frame, his body torn to shreds by bullets.

I tackled Harrison around the waist and bore him to the floor, then drew my Shuriken from inside my jacket and called up biotic power in my left hand.

Heavy boot-steps resounded in the corridor.

"Cam," I whispered. "Whatever you do, _stay down_."

He stared at me with wide, frightened eyes.

I saw a flicker of movement out of the corner of my eye. By instinct I lashed out with my biotics, bouncing a flash-bang grenade back out the door into the corridor.

_Wham!_

At once I was up and over Harrison's heavy desk, flinging a singularity so that it would take effect just outside the door. I had just a moment to take in the two massive shapes caught up in my biotic vortex – _heavy_ _white and gold armor, assault rifles, __**Cerberus!**_ – and then I fired, ripping through their armor and killing them both.

I leaned out just far enough to see down the corridor, glanced both ways. There were three more Cerberus troops running in my direction. I took cover in the door-frame and fired at them, causing two of them to dive to the sides.

The third soldier crouched behind a heavy riot shield and continued to approach in the center of the corridor, firing back at me with a heavy pistol.

I bit my lip in thought, then reached out with my mind, grabbed the shield, and _wrenched_ at it. Surprised, he was unable to maintain his grip and the shield flew away with a clatter. I riddled him with bullets.

"_Taking casualties!_"

"_Damn! They've got some sort of asari commando!_"

I bared my teeth in something that probably could not be called a smile. _Not quite, you __**nothos**__. But close enough, as they say, for government work._

Faiza had remarked on how stylish and attractive my white-and-blue ensemble was. What she had not noticed was that it worked perfectly well as light combat armor . . . and it had a built-in kinetic barrier.

I moved up, shedding Cerberus gunfire as I went, and took new cover a few meters down the corridor. From there I was in a perfect position to drop another singularity between my enemies. Once again they found themselves unable to deal with my biotics, and dangled helpless in mid-air until I could tear through their armor with my sidearm.

I glanced around. For the moment the corridor was empty, except for the dead. I ran back to Harrison's office.

"Cam?"

He rose from behind his desk, sweating and pale. "What in heaven's name . . ."

"Cerberus. I've taken care of them for the moment, but there are bound to be more on the way. We have to get to the Archives and transmit the data."

He nodded, shaky but clearly thinking, and opened his omni-tool. "Faiza?"

No answer, even after he tried three times.

"Faiza was planning to go to the mess hall while you and I met," I told him at last. "The mess hall is centrally located and always has a number of people in it. Cam . . . Cerberus would probably have struck there first."

He glanced at me in shock, and then nodded. "You're undoubtedly right."

"Do you have a sidearm? Anything you could defend yourself with?"

"No. I've never learned to use one."

I frowned. "You had better stay here, under cover."

"No," he said, some determination seeping back into his voice. "I know the Archives. I might be able to help you."

"All right. If the Alliance is holding out anywhere, it will be at the tram station. That's where we need to go."

"Smashing. I know a short-cut through the labs."

We hurried. I took the lead, sidearm and biotics at the ready, listening for any sign of more Cerberus troops. Soon we heard more gunfire up ahead, and the sound of heavy weapons. I began to worry: _what if there are too many Cerberus between us and the Archives?_

"This way," said Harrison, pointing to the left.

"_There they are!_" More Cerberus troops, appearing some distance behind, breaking into a lumbering run to intercept us. Too many for me to deal with all at once.

I dropped a singularity into the corridor behind us and ran, following Harrison. He opened a door and rushed through, with me on his heels. As soon as I was inside, he locked the door behind me. I glanced around, saw several other human scientists with confused expressions on their faces.

"Cam!"

"What's going on?"

"These interruptions are _intolerable_ . . ."

"Quiet, _please_." Harrison held up his hands to gather attention. "The Archives are under attack. We need to prepare to evacuate."

Cerberus troops appeared in the corridor outside, looking at all of us through the transparent partitions along that wall. One of them tried the door, found it locked. Then he turned to a control panel beside the door and began examining it closely.

Harrison was still struggling to gain control of the scientists in the room. Uneasy, I glanced around to find escape routes. There was another door in the back of the room . . . I moved in that direction, only to see the activation panel blink red as I approached it. A moment's work with my omni-tool failed to crack it open.

"_Cam!_" I shouted, cutting through the growing babble. "We're locked in."

Harrison frowned . . . and then whirled to look at the Cerberus troops, still working with the control panel they had found.

"My God," said one of the scientists. "The decon cycle."

Another rushed to the corridor wall, began hammering on the transparent partition and screaming. The Cerberus troops took no notice.

Again I glanced around, my heart racing, frantic to find a way out of what was beginning to look like a death trap.

_Up there. The ventilation duct_.

I saw a vent cover, large enough for someone to squeeze into the duct. My right fist flared blue-white. I seized the cover telekinetically and _pulled_, yanking it away. The humans turned to stare at me as I leaped up onto a lab table, scattering instruments and priceless artifacts. Another leap, assisted by a flare of biotics to manage my mass, and I had the edge of the duct in both hands. I scrambled into the tiny space.

"Cam! Come on!"

He did his best, scrambling onto the table and reaching upward while the others milled about and shouted in panic. He reached up for my hand as I leaned out, my biotics flaring, ready to help him up.

I heard a sharp _buzz_. Crimson light flared, giving the lab the look of a charnel house.

Time stretched out. I realized there was no way for Harrison to make the climb in the moments we had left. I caught his terrified gaze for just an instant. Then I recoiled, pulling myself up into the duct and rolling to the side away from the opening.

I did my best to close my aural cavities to the sound, as the decontamination fields incinerated Harrison and his colleagues where they stood.


	6. The Quest Interrupted

_**1230 Local Time, 11 April 2186, Prothean Archives, Deseado Crater/Mars**_

_Caught like vermin in a trap_.

Stuck in a ventilation duct, two Cerberus troopers only moments behind me, I frantically crawled and squirmed to get away. Every time I tried to pause and catch my bearings, my enemies began firing at me, forcing me to scurry further on.

I wasn't sure where I was. I knew, though, that _I was going the wrong way_. The Archives chamber was _behind_ me, getting more distant with every meter of duct traversed, and with it I was losing possibly the only hope any of us had to win the war against the Reapers.

_Damn Cerberus!_

I didn't know how it had been done, but the Illusive Man's soldiers had attacked the Archives with ruthless speed and almost no warning. The Alliance garrison had held out for at least a few minutes, but no one on this end of the access tramway had been given much of a chance. I suspected I was the only civilian still alive in this section of the facility.

_The vehicle hangar might be in this direction. Get away somehow from these two beasts, steal a ground vehicle . . . and then what? Cross thousands of kilometers of rough country to reach Port Lowell and my ship? That will take days, assuming I can navigate the Martian outback at all, and the Reapers will almost certainly be there before me._

It was a terrible plan, but it was the only plan I had.

Gunfire behind me, much too close, echoing loudly in the tight space. I flinched as a bullet rang just beside my head, and tried to move even faster.

_There. The end of the duct, and a vent cover_._ That must be the vehicle hangar_.

I reached the cover, pushed at it, a sour taste of terror in my mouth as I heard the Cerberus troopers getting closer. Desperate, I flipped end for end and _kicked_ at the cover with both legs, a blue flare of biotics lending some extra force. "_Ai!_"

The cover popped off with a great _clang_.

I flung myself into empty space, by great good luck landing with both feet firmly on a second-level catwalk. I vaulted over some containers, down to the floor, and ran. While I fled, I counted seconds in my mind. At the critical moment I spun around, just in time to see one Cerberus trooper jumping down and the other still in the mouth of the vent. My mind and my right hand were already in motion. With a snarling noise, a singularity popped into existence right between the two of them, sweeping them both up into a vortex of forces.

_Vermin in a trap can turn on you_.

I drew my Shuriken and fired two bursts. They fell. I walked over, no longer in any hurry, and gave each of them their kill-shots.

Then the miracle occurred.

"Liara!"

I turned, and felt astonished relief wash over me like a joyous tide.

"Shepard!"

My bondmate had come, in full _battle-rattle_, two other soldiers at his side. I even recognized them.

"James."

Built like a small mountain, even more imposing than usual in his heavy armor, James Vega grinned at me. "Doc. You're a sight for sore eyes."

"Ashley." This time my voice sounded _much_ more chilly.

Dark-haired and beautiful, looking as sleek and deadly as ever in her own combat gear, Ashley Williams gave me a silent and hesitant nod. Yes, she knew just why I had cause to be angry with her. Of course, she had reason to be angry with me as well. _Some unfinished business to resolve there_.

Then Shepard was sweeping me into an enthusiastic embrace. I strained for a moment to kiss him, just a brush of my lips against his to set fire running down my spine, and then he set me down.

"Thank the Goddess you're alive," I said.

"You too, Liara."

"I was so worried when the reports came in. I'm . . . sorry about Earth."

"Yeah," said Ashley, stepping up to stand just behind Shepard, her voice deep with strain. "It was difficult to leave."

Compassion brushed old anger aside. "Ashley, I'm sorry."

She only nodded, a hint of moisture in her eyes.

I turned back to Shepard. "Not that I'm ungrateful . . . the Goddess knows it's a terrible mess here, and I was _beyond_ desperate when you appeared. But _why_ are you here?"

"Hackett ordered us to come. He wasn't sure, but he said your work might have paid off."

I gave him a small smile and turned away, leading them toward a window looking out on the Archives. "Yes. It has."

"Hallelujah," muttered James. "Some _answers_, finally."

"Maybe. With the help of some of the researchers here, I've uncovered a _blueprint_ for the Crucible."

"Whoa, hold up," said James. "What's the _Crucible?_"

"A device. One that might wipe out the Reapers, if we can build it."

"I saw your earlier reports," said Shepard. "I guess I'll believe it when I see it. How do we get the data?"

"We compiled everything in the Archives. I was almost ready to transmit the whole package to Admiral Hackett when Cerberus attacked. All we have to do is get across the tram or the pedway." I pointed out the window. "That's assuming Cerberus hasn't locked them down. There were too many for me to deal with alone, but with all of us in the fight . . ."

"What are _they_ after?" Shepard wondered.

"Yeah, they seemed hell-bent on catching _you_," said James.

"I think they want what I'm here for," I told them. "What we're all here for. The Protheans came close to completing the Crucible. They were convinced that it would destroythe Reapers, but they ran out of time."

Ashley nodded. "Anything powerful enough to _destroy the Reapers_ . . ."

"Just might be something the Illusive Man would be interested in," finished Shepard.

"So it's a race to the Archives," said James.

_Boom_. The floor trembled beneath our feet.

Shepard whirled, turning to stare at the main access doors on the second level of the hangar. A flare of light and heat appeared along the centerline of the door, signs of a cutting torch being applied to break into the locked compartment. "We've got company."

"Bring it on," growled James.

"Not this time, Lieutenant."

"_What?_"

"Get back to the shuttle. If Cerberus beats us to the Archives, I need you covering the exits."

"But . . ."

"_Now_, Lieutenant."

James shook his head angrily, but he put up no more resistance. He stalked out onto the vehicle lift, checking his weapon and donning his helmet as Shepard operated the controls to lower him into the airlock compartment. The rest of us dove for cover as the lift closed.

"_There she is! There's the asari bitch!_"

Cerberus troopers spilled out into the hangar.

This proved to be a serious mistake on their part. They were only expecting one asari archaeologist. What they got was _Shepard_.

I did my part, of course. I dropped a singularity into the middle of the Cerberus formation, pulling two of them up into a helpless spin while Shepard and Ashley tore them to shreds with gunfire. Then Shepard produced a terribly powerful _shockwave_ that detonated my singularity, throwing the rest of them off their feet.

"I didn't know you could do that!" I observed.

"I've had a few months without much else to do but train."

"All right, let's see what else you remember."

I called a warp up in my right hand, angry blue-white energy like a swarm of stinging insects. He saw it, remembered our fights against the Collectors, and nodded. He used a lightning-quick control gesture to fling a telekinetic _pull_ across the open hangar, hauling two more Cerberus into the air. My warp slammed into his biotic field a moment later and detonated it.

_BOOM!_

Quite suddenly there were no Cerberus left.

"Come on," said Shepard. "It looks like the lift to the second floor is offline. Let's find another way up."

We searched the room. It didn't take long for Ashley to spot a tracked crawler mounted on a maintenance lift. With the lift extended, we would be able to climb up onto the crawler and out into the second-level catwalk.

"Liara, there's something I don't get," said Ashley while we worked. "This is a secured station. How did Cerberus even get in here?"

"I don't know. We were watching the reports of the Reaper attack on Earth, and then _chaos_. Cerberus everywhere, killing anything that moved."

"That's very strange timing. Do you suppose Cerberus is working _with_ the Reapers?"

"I have a hard time believing that," said Shepard. "Unless their leadership has become indoctrinated somehow."

"That's . . . not impossible," I pointed out as we all emerged onto the catwalk. "Cerberus has been working hard to reverse-engineer Reaper technology. They may have crossed that line without even realizing it."

"No way to determine that here," said Shepard. "Come on. Where's the nearest access to the Archives?"

"The pedway is nearby," I said. "Through here . . ."

I heard a shout, saw one of the Archives researchers running toward us with raw panic on his face. Then there was a bark of gunfire and he fell dead.

Shepard growled in rage and _attacked_. Ashley and I opened fire, but I think Shepard accounted for all four of the Cerberus troopers in the next room. He hauled one trooper over a sheaf of conduits and killed him with a biotic-enhanced strike to the face, whirled to fire twice with his shotgun at another, and then flash-charged across the room to take out the last two. I barely had a chance to blink.

As he stalked away down the corridor, I murmured to Ashley. "I've almost never seen him fight like that. I remember him being a lot more . . . calculating. Deliberate."

"Hmm. Earth was _horrible_. The _Normandy_ had to extract him from Vancouver harbor with Reapers and Reaper troops all around us. I think we all have some issues to work through." She shook her head. "I'm just glad to see that he's _willing_ to fight Cerberus."

"Do you still believe he has some loyalty to them?"

"I don't know . . ." She scowled at me. "Hey, you're hardly in a position to give me any assurances. You _gave_ him to them. I don't remember you mentioning that, last time I saw you."

"Yes. I gave him to Cerberus, to save his life when the Alliance would not or could not do it." I turned away, following the signpost of Shepard's rigid back, and my voice became very cold. "Ashley, he and I have fought too hard, sacrificed too much, to beat the Collectors and then to cut all of our ties to Cerberus. I will _not_ be questioned by you."

I heard her take a deep breath and then release it. "All right, I suppose I deserved that."

"He has _earned_ your trust. A thousand times over."

"Maybe. Still, are you sure he's really the same man who led us against Saren? What if Cerberus has _changed_ him somehow?"

I swallowed a hot retort and forced myself to respond rationally. "To be honest, I had the same concern at first. When he arrived on Illium, I worried that Cerberus had managed somehow to place him under their control. I soon saw I had no reason to worry. I know that man down to the marrow of his bones, Ash. I could not possibly be mistaken in this."

"All right. I still wish you had been up front with me in Mumbai. Finding out that he was still alive through nothing but _rumors_, then seeing him on Horizon . . . It was a shock. I didn't react very well. I think I'm still trying to get over it."

"I know. I'm sorry, Ash." I shook my head in self-recrimination. "I should have told you before. I suppose I didn't want to get my own hopes up too soon. I don't think I quite believed that Cerberus would truly bring him back. Then when I knew he was alive and fighting, we were already in the middle of the war against the Collectors, and it was too late for you and me to have that conversation."

Ashley stopped short. I turned to find Shepard giving us both a mild glare. "I suggest you two resolve your issues _later_," he commanded. "Right now I need your eyes open and your minds alert."

"Aye-aye," said Ashley. I nodded in agreement.

We emerged out into the pedway terminal, weapons and biotics at the ready, but we found no Cerberus waiting for us. I soon holstered my sidearm and led the others to the pedway control station, where Shepard and I worked with the controls while Ashley stood lookout.

"Damn," I said at last. "The security system has been tampered with, and the pedway's locked out."

"Hey, did you see that? Who's that woman on the vid?" Ashley asked suddenly.

I turned and saw that some of the security consoles were playing a piece of surveillance footage on a loop. Over and over, a female human came onto the screen, punched a few quick commands into a console, and then hurried out of view.

I recognized her. Then the whole cascade of memories came crashing into my mind. "Oh _Goddess_. How could I have been so _stupid?_"

"Liara?"

I smashed my fists down on the desk, the only way I could let the frustration out without howling. "She arrived here about a week ago, just before I did. She gave her name as _Dr. Alexander_, but now I doubt that's her real identity. I think she's the same woman who was on Thessia, poking into the archives, while I was working there about six weeks ago. At the time she was using the name _Dr. Eva Coré_."

"What's so special about her?" asked Shepard.

"She's almost certainly a Cerberus infiltrator, and I _never made the connection_ until now. I _knew_ Cerberus was following me from planet to planet, and it somehow escaped my mind that they might have come here as well. Everything that's happened here, all these deaths . . ._ it's my fault!_"

"Liara!" Shepard loomed over me, turned me in the chair and took me by the shoulders, preventing me with his sheer presence from spiraling out of control. "It's _not_ your fault. _Cerberus_ is to blame."

"I could have prevented all of this. I even suspected there was something amiss . . . but I let it go, because I was tired and distracted, because I had a headache and my feet hurt and my stomach was rumbling. If I had said even a word to Dr. Harrison, he might have been able to do something."

"So you made a mistake. So did everyone else who vetted her for access to the Archives. Cerberus is smart and tough and you can't expect to beat them every time."

I dropped my face into my hands for a moment, fighting a sour flood of nausea and shame.

Shepard's voice dropped to an intimate murmur. "Liara. I need you functioning right now. I need you to help me make Cerberus pay for what they did here."

I took a deep breath and let my hands fall into my lap, where they balled into fists. "Right."

He placed a feather-light kiss on my crest and stood back. "That's better. So what's our next step?"

"Well, if the pedway is locked down . . ." I turned back to the security console. "There's a maintenance hatch across the room that leads to the roof. We can cut across to the next building and make our way through the labs to the tram station."

"That's more like it. Let's get moving."

* * *

I realized we were serious trouble the moment we emerged onto the roof. The winds were picking up, goading even the thin Martian atmosphere into producing a low howl and pushing at us. In the distance I could see a dust storm, towering kilometers high and bearing down slowly on the Archives. Shepard was unable to raise the _Normandy_, could barely get through to James back at the shuttle.

We hurried, not wanting to be stranded on Mars for the duration of the storm.

We fought two squads of Cerberus troops, and had to work our way around a defense turret they had subverted to their own use. By the time we dealt with the last of them, my remorse had hardened into a bitterly cold fury. There was no Illusive Man here to calmly argue for his position and claim the best of motives. Only his soldiers, carrying out his will.

Butchers. Murderers. They had left not a single man or woman alive.

We found Faiza in the mess hall, dead of asphyxiation, her face horribly distorted, her fingers broken as if she had tried to claw her way into a pressurized compartment.

We found Cam in the lab where I abandoned him, nothing left but charcoal and bones after the decon fields had swept over him a hundred times.

We found dozens of others. Some of them had been forced to kneel before they were shot in the back of the head.

Yet that was not the worst of it.

Once we reached the tram station, at first we could see no way to cross over to the Archives. Cerberus had called both cars to their side and locked down the controls. So Ashley conceived a plan of deception, using a Cerberus helmet communicator to trick the survivors into sending over a tram. She opened a dead trooper's helmet . . . and recoiled in horror.

The dead trooper no longer appeared human. He had blue-glowing implants instead of eyes, his skin shone a sickly yellowish-gray, and tubes and implanted machinery violated his tissues.

"God!" Ashley spat in revulsion. "He looks like a husk."

"Yeah, not quite . . ." Shepard bent close to examine the corpse. "They've certainly done _something_ to him."

"He looks like Paul Grayson did, just before he was killed," I murmured.

"Cerberus is doing this to _their own people?_" Ashley demanded.

I nodded. "It fits. Improved capability along with fanatic loyalty to the cause."

"God. Shepard . . . what if they've done something like that to _you?_ You're full of Cerberus cybernetics."

Shepard scowled. "How can you compare me to that thing?"

"If they had changed you, would you even know?"

I stepped in. "Ashley, I think you've missed something. Look at the timing. Cerberus was experimenting with husks and Reaper technology even while we were fighting Saren. It's possible that some of that technology was used to revive Shepard. But we never saw them using the technology to _control_ their own people. That's a new development."

"What are you getting at, Liara?"

"It started after the Collector base was destroyed. After Shepard, Miranda Lawson, and I all broke away from Cerberus at the same time."

Ashley cocked her head, thinking hard.

"That _does_ make sense," said Shepard. "Ash, you should have seen the Illusive Man while we were fighting the Collectors. Always trying to _persuade_ us to follow along, to see things his way. Even when I was pissed off at him, even when I told him I'd had enough of his manipulation, he kept at it. That's not the behavior of someone who knew he had an override switch in my brain."

I nodded in agreement. "Until the Collector base. I think it was a terrible shock to him, to have all three of us turn against him at once and _get away with it_. I spoke to him for a few moments after Miranda cut off his transmission. I've never seen him so bitterly angry."

"So you think he changed his strategy?" Ashley asked, her voice slow and reflective. "Started using the Reaper tech so no one could ever betray him like that again?"

"It fits his psychological profile."

"I'm not even going to ask how you laid hands on _the Illusive Man's_ psych profile."

I glanced at Shepard. His eyes flickered, a micro-expression I could read as clearly as if he had spoken aloud. _Ash doesn't know you're the Shadow Broker_.

I nodded slightly. "We can discuss that later. In the meantime, Ash, would you _please_ set aside your mistrust so that we can focus on the mission?"

"You're right," she sighed. "I have to stop letting my own issues get in the way. Will you both accept my apology?"

Shepard nodded, solemnly shaking Ashley's hand. "You bet."

I nodded in relieved agreement.

* * *

After one last fierce fight in the Archives security checkpoint, we finally reached the Archives themselves. Shepard and Ashley stopped for a moment, not lowering their weapons, still staring about the vast space in wonder. The sound of the approaching storm echoed in the still air.

Shepard recovered first. "Ash, take overwatch. Be careful. We haven't found that Dr. Coré yet, or whatever her name is."

Ashley nodded and began to move to a secure vantage point. Shepard and I hurried to the interface consoles. I immediately began to call up the directory where Faiza and I had stored the reconstructed Crucible data.

Unfortunately we were interrupted almost at once.

"_Shepard._"

I whirled, my sidearm already leveled, sensing Shepard following suit at my side.

A status hologram for the Prothean devices had faded away, replaced by an image of a male human wearing an expensive business suit. He smoked a cigarette and watched both of us with calm appraisal.

"Illusive Man," I said coldly.

"Fascinating race, the Protheans. They left all of this for us to discover, but we've squandered it. The Alliance has known about the Archives for over thirty years, and what have they done with it?"

"What do _you_ want?" Shepard demanded.

The lllusive Man glanced past us at the Archives themselves. Almost against his will, Shepard turned to look in that direction as well.

"What I've always wanted," the Illusive Man said at last. "The data in these artifacts holds the key to solving the Reaper threat."

Shepard shook his head in disgust. "I've seen your _solution_. You turn your own people into murdering monsters."

"Hardly. They're being improved."

"_Improved?_"

"That's what separates us, Shepard. Where you see only a means to destroy, I see a way to control, to dominate and harness the Reapers' power. Imagine how strong humanity could be, if _we_ controlled _them_."

"Earth is under siege, and you're hatching a scheme to control the Reapers?"

The Illusive Man took on the air of a wise elder, patiently correcting his students. "You've always been short-sighted. Hasty. Your destruction of the Collector base proved that."

"That base was an abomination. Hundreds of thousands of humans were murdered there!"

"And so you threw away any chance we had to make those sacrifices worthwhile." The Illusive Man took another drag on his cigarette. When his face emerged from behind its veil of smoke, it was hard and determined. "This isn't your fight any more, Shepard. You can't defeat the Reapers, even with the Prothean data."

"Work with us, then. Bring your resources into the fight, and we'll destroy the Reapers together."

"You and Dr. T'Soni would do better than most, but the odds aren't in your favor. More importantly, I don't _want_ the Reapers destroyed. We can dominate them. _Use_ their power. Harness their very essence to bring humanity to the apex of evolution."

"You've gone too far." Shepard stepped close to the hologram, using his voice and presence to persuade. "The Reapers will kill us all if we don't stop fighting each other."

"I don't expect you to understand, Shepard . . . and I'm certainly _not_ looking for your approval."

I frowned. Something in the Illusive Man's voice at that point . . .

"You were nothing but a _tool_. An agent with a singular purpose. Despite our differences, you were relatively successful. But like the rest of the relics in that place, your time is over."

"Enough talk." Shepard turned his back on the hologram, dismissing it from his thoughts. "Liara?"

I turned to the console, began to open the files once more . . . and _failed_.

"Don't interfere with my plans, Shepard," said the Illusive Man. "I won't warn you again."

"_Duly noted_."

"Shepard!" I shouted in panic. "The data, they're not here. They're being _erased_."

"Goodbye, Shepard," said the Illusive Man, fading into nonexistence.

"Erased _how?_" Shepard demanded.

"I don't know. It's being uploaded somewhere . . ."

Then we heard it: Ashley's shout, as she went down under a sudden flurry of blows.

I whirled, my sidearm out once more, and saw a flash of white shining in the dim light on the outer perimeter of the chamber. "_There!_ It's the Cerberus infiltrator. She must have the data!"

Shepard took off in a dead sprint.

I followed, pausing for only a moment to help Ashley to her feet.

Goddess, the infiltrator was _fast_. I think I knew even then that she wasn't really human. She ran through the security checkpoint, dropping an incendiary charge behind her to slow us, and then clambered up an access ladder to the roof.

The three of us pursued, although Shepard was the only one who had much chance to keep up with her. Ashley was in superb condition and had the full battery of Alliance genemods, but she had no Cerberus cybernetics to improve her physical performance. I was in good condition too, but I wasn't a soldier at all. Within moments Shepard was out of sight ahead of me, and Ashley was pulling away as well.

I put my head down, took deep breaths, and _forced_ my body to respond.

Up a ladder, a shaved second to put on a respirator mask, and then I was on the roof. The wind howled, carrying grit and fines that scraped at my exposed skin. I could scarcely see. The heart of the storm was almost upon us.

I stumbled along, one hand raised to shield my face. Then it occurred to me to put up a biotic barrier, keeping the dust at bay. That helped. I could run once more, vault over a low barrier, speed up while moving through a momentary shelter, climb another ladder. I could barely see a dark shape in the dust-laden air up ahead, Ashley doing her best to keep up without abandoning me.

Suddenly I heard Shepard's voice over the comms. "_Damn it, she's getting away! James? __**Normandy**__? Anybody?_"

I finally caught up with Ashley, perched on a ledge and bringing her assault rifle to bear on a Cerberus shuttle as it began to rise away from us. Shepard was just ahead, staring impotently upward.

The respirator mask was suffocating me. I couldn't get enough air. I tried to call up my biotics, but nothing responded.

A wash of static, and then James's voice: ". _. . Commander. I've got this_."

Another shuttle, this one painted in Alliance blue, swept down out of the storm like a hammer. It _rammed_ the Cerberus shuttle at high speed, forcing it back down . . .

Right on top of us.

I shouted and dove to the side, feeling a sharp pain as I twisted an ankle, and then thirty tons of metal slammed into the roof bare meters away. I only had time to be terrified after the fact, realizing almost at once that the Cerberus shuttle had _missed_ crushing the life out of me.

Silence, except for the howling and thunder of the storm.

I pushed myself to a seated position, deciding not to put weight on that ankle just yet. Then Ashley appeared, slinging her rifle on her back so that she could use both arms to help me.

"The data," I groaned. "We need the data."

_Crash. Crash._

"What the . . ."

The wrecked Cerberus shuttle rocked as its door panel suddenly flew off. Out of the flames loomed a female figure, its skin and clothing burned away to expose a _surface_, silver-white where it wasn't covered with ash and soot. Its eyes shone white, covered with a blue holographic visor. It no longer looked even remotely human.

Ashley shouted and ducked out from under my arm, drawing her rifle once more. I staggered back, shouting in pain as my weight came down on the injured ankle, but I also tried to draw my own sidearm.

The thing dodged Ashley's one burst of gunfire, hammered her weapon away with a ruthless cross-check, and then seized Ashley by the front of her helmet. It was _strong_, holding her dangling above the roof with one hand.

Shepard appeared, sprinting around the corner of the crashed Alliance shuttle and drawing his sidearm. "_Let her go!_"

It cocked its head, as if considering the situation, and then whirled. Slammed Ashley's head against the hull of the Cerberus shuttle with terrible force. Then again, and _again_.

"_No!_" Shepard shouted.

It dropped Ashley like a broken toy, and then _flashed_ across the open space, charging Shepard. I tried to bring my sidearm to bear, but it was too fast.

_Bang-bang-bang._ Shepard rapid-fired his sidearm, striking the thing repeatedly in its center of mass.

Finally, less than three meters away from him, it twisted and went down in a shower of sparks.

He ran to Ashley, where she lay limp and pathetic under the wrath of the storm. "Ash! My God, _Ash!_"

Darkness loomed in the air above us. I glanced up, at first expecting to see the storm clouds threatening, but instead there was a long, sleek shape in the sky.

_Normandy_.

"_You there, Commander?_" A voice crackled over the radio, so familiar that I gasped in relief. Joker. "_We've got Reaper signatures in orbit. ETA less than a minute. We've got to get moving!_"

Shepard bent and swung Ashley into a carry position. "Liara?"

"I can walk," I groaned, starting to hobble toward the _Normandy_ and its access ramp.

"James, get that _thing_."

"Aye-aye." The burly lieutenant bent and hefted the infiltrator's shell into his arms.

Battered but alive, we climbed into the _Normandy_'s cargo hold. The access ramp closed behind us.

I collapsed against a stack of crates and peeled the respirator mask away, gasping for air as I felt the ship rise and flee into the Martian sky.


	7. Council

_**1730 Shipboard Time (SSV Normandy), 11 April 2186, Interstellar Space**_

I heard the outer door of the medical bay open, followed by Shepard's voice. "Liara?"

"Back here," I called from the rear of the compartment, in _Normandy_'s AI core.

He appeared in the inner doorway. "We're a few minutes from the relay transit to Widow. Joker says we should be docking at the Citadel within the hour."

I turned away from my work, crossed the room to step into his embrace. It felt good to simply hold him for a minute, feeling the strength of his arms around me, the warmth of his cheek against my crest. "Goddess," I breathed into his chest. "What a day."

"It's not over yet." He tipped my face up for a brief kiss, and then released me. "What have you and EDI managed to learn from that thing?"

I looked back at the shell of the Cerberus infiltrator, still lying motionless on a work table, wrapped in sensors and a thicket of hardline connections. "Its data storage was intact. We've been able to recover all the Crucible data. We also learned that I need to ask Miranda Lawson some _very_ pointed questions."

"I don't follow."

"Have you ever wondered how Cerberus was able to reconstruct your brain, with your previous memories intact?" I turned away from him, finding it difficult to look into his eyes. "They had a crib sheet. All of your memories in storage."

"How did they. . . oh. Liara, you _didn't_."

"I did. They had a cybernetic device for reading and recording memory traces, based on asari technology. I permitted them to read _my_ memories, so they could sort through the traces and recover yours. Miranda gave me a solemn promise that the data would never be used except in support of the Lazarus Project."

He gave me a cynical smile. "You believed her?"

"Let's say I doubt she had any way to control what was done with the data after she left Cerberus. Apparently the Illusive Man recovered the records from the wreckage of Lazarus Station, and found another purpose for them." I pointed at the lifeless shell. "That _thing_ has a copy. In some sense, it _remembers_ what it was to be Liara T'Soni, as of about two years and nine months ago."

"Hmm. Seems like a quick and easy way to produce an infiltrator mech that's also an expert in Prothean archaeology."

"Not to mention it would have some insight into my psychology. It might have been able to predict my movements. I wonder if that one machine hasn't been shadowing me for most of the last two months."

"Possibly. You're sure it's been deactivated?"

"EDI is sure. She's continuing to data-mine its deep storage, to see if there's anything we've missed so far."

"Okay. You'll be ready to present your findings to the Council?"

"As soon as we reach the Citadel." I glanced into his face and saw a flicker of uncertainty there. "Shepard, I'm sure the Council will see the need to help. They can't _possibly_ continue to deny the existence of the Reapers at this point."

"It will be a _hell_ of a short war if they do." He turned back out into the medical bay, motioning for me to follow. "What about Ash?"

I shook my head as we walked over to the covered medical bed on which Ashley lay. "I wish there were some medical personnel on board when you had to flee Earth. I've done what I can for her, put her into temporary stasis, but I'm not a qualified physician. She needs emergency care."

"I've called ahead. Huerta Memorial will have a trauma team standing by in the docking bay when we arrive."

"Good." I sighed, feeling overcome with fatigue. "By the way, I believe the human custom is to say: _happy birthday_."

He turned and _stared_ at me. "My God. That never even occurred to me."

"I can understand that. You spent your last two birthdays dead, and it would be . . . rather difficult to celebrate this one."

He wrapped me in his arms once more, making me feel warm and cherished for a moment. "I suppose you're right. But at least the two of us are together for this fight, from the very beginning. That gives me some confidence that we might be able to celebrate the _next_ one."

_Goddess, I hope so._

"_Commander_."

"Go ahead, EDI."

"_I'm receiving a transmission over the secondary QEC. I believe it's from Admiral Hackett._"

My eyes widened in surprise. "Hackett has survived?"

Shepard made a grim smile, his eyes suddenly alight. "If anyone could pull off a fighting retreat against the Reapers, it's him. EDI, forward the transmission to the comm room. Liara and I will be right there."

* * *

Shepard stalked into the _Normandy_'s new comm facility, with me less than two steps behind. We could already hear Admiral Hackett's voice, cloudy with distortion and subharmonics.

". . . _Shepard, are you reading me? Commander?_"

"EDI, see if you can clear this up a bit," Shepard ordered.

"_I'll do my best_."

Suddenly Hackett's image on the stage cleared up, well enough that I could see details of his uniform and face, see the grinding weariness in his body language.

"_Commander. Did you get to the Archives?_"

"Yes, Admiral. I was able to pick up Liara and her data. We had to fight through about a platoon of Cerberus troops."

"_Hmm. I was worried Cerberus might try something. Liara, were you able to recover everything?_"

"I believe so," I said. A touch to my omni-tool sent a video file into the link for all of us to examine. Hackett and Shepard saw the Crucible for the first time: a vast mechanism, several kilometers long, with a massive spherical head containing its most critical assemblies. "We have a nearly complete blueprint for the device. A weapon that the Protheans were convinced would destroy the Reapers, if they could only complete it in time."

"_Send us your data, then. We'll do our own analysis. If your instincts are right, this might be the key we need._"

"I've learned to trust Liara's instincts, sir."

"_So have I. You said the blueprint was __**nearly**__ complete?_"

"One component was missing," I reported. "Here. Something the Protheans called _the Catalyst_. The Mars Archives didn't go into more detail. We may need to continue searching for that last piece of the puzzle."

"_Just building what you have will be a monumental undertaking. Especially given the circumstances._"

"Were you able to get away from the Reaper forces, Admiral?" asked Shepard.

"_Barely. The Fourth has been shattered, nothing left from it but a few cruisers and frigates. I had to sacrifice the Second to cover our retreat from Sol and Arcturus. The First, Third, and Fifth all took heavy losses . . . but we managed to disengage and make it to the fallback position at Alpha Cygni. We still have a fleet-in-being. If we can find the resources, we might be able to build this Crucible device._"

My bondmate set his jaw in determination. "I'll get you those resources, Admiral."

"_Good. Talk to the Council, show them what you've found. Convince them that we have to meet the enemy together if we're going to have any chance to survive this._"

"Hmm. The Council doesn't exactly have a long record of paying attention to us."

"_They're still the best chance we have._"

Shepard tossed off a crisp salute. "I'll do my best."

"_I have every confidence in you, Commander. Hackett out._"

* * *

_**2300 Local Time, 11 April 2186, Citadel**_

As soon as we arrived, Shepard found himself buried in Alliance business. The orders returning him to active command of the _Normandy_ had not reached Alliance authorities on the Citadel, so his legal and military status was unclear. He was forced to meet with Alliance officials and contact Hackett over the QEC once more before Admiral Saneyoshi became willing to confirm his command. Shepard took the opportunity to request assignment of crew, provisions, and equipment to the _Normandy_, preparing the ship for long-term deployment. Then he took a few minutes to visit Huerta Memorial Hospital and ensure that Ashley was receiving proper care.

I had no such obligations. Instead, I obtained an audience with the Citadel Council.

There is an old human metaphor to describe the use of influence: _pulling strings_. What I did was not so delicate. I took hold of a heavy cable that was lying close at hand, and _hauled_ on it.

In short, I contacted Vara and had her place a call to Councilor Tevos. Using the advanced comm equipment aboard the _Sheguntai,_ along with a set of very closely held authentication codes, she impersonated the Shadow Broker and contacted Councilor Tevos directly. "The Broker" then insisted that "his representative" should be permitted to address the Council on the matter of the attack on Earth. _Immediately_.

Udina would not have been able to convince his colleagues to see me on such short notice. The trick would not have worked on Sparatus or Valern. On the other hand, the Shadow Broker had considerable leverage on Tevos, and she knew it. Thus I was able to walk directly into the Council's private chambers while it was still in emergency session, less than half an hour after _Normandy_ docked at the Citadel.

I took a deep breath, doing my best to banish shock, hunger, and exhaustion. I seized control of my body language to project supreme confidence, and _strode_ into the room.

A quick _gestalt_ glance: Udina looking haggard and worn, Sparatus sitting on the very edge of his chair as if he could barely contain his outrage, Valern with his hood thrown forward to conceal most of his face. Only Tevos had managed to keep her face and posture under strict control, still putting up a façade of calm reason.

"Councilors. I have just arrived from the Sol system aboard the _Normandy_." I glanced around the table, catching each pair of eyes in turn. "I do not know what reports have reached you so far. I can attest that the worst has come to pass. _The Reapers are attacking Earth_."

Sparatus recoiled in disgust. "_Pah_. These so-called _Reapers_ again. Is there no end to this nonsense?"

Tevos shook her head. "Councilor, it is not reasonable for you to reject Dr. T'Soni's testimony. We have known for several days that _something_ catastrophic is happening to trailing of Council space. Credible reports of the apparent collapse of the Batarian Hegemony, a flood of batarian refugees beginning to cross Alliance space in our direction . . ."

"If some force attacked the batarians, the natural next step would be to invade human territory," observed Valern.

Sparatus fumed, but he put up no further objection.

Tevos turned to me. "What information do you have, Dr. T'Soni?"

I stood at parade rest, my hands linked behind my back, and my voice was very crisp and cold.

"Councilors, about six hours ago a massive invasion force entered the Sol system. The Alliance fleets were forewarned and had already gone to a war footing. Most of their ships had recently been upgraded with new armor, kinetic barriers, and weapons systems. All of these preparations made no difference whatsoever.

"The invaders engaged the Alliance's First Fleet near the Charon relay. Within minutes, they also engaged the Fourth Fleet in Earth orbital space. Within minutes after _that_, they were landing on Earth in overwhelming force. I was on Mars at the time. I personally saw real-time news broadcasts from many of Earth's largest cities, all of them under simultaneous attack.

"The enemy's largest ships are clearly of similar design to _Sovereign_. We have not been able to complete an order-of-battle assessment, but it is clear that the enemy has _hundreds_ of such ships, along with many smaller vessels. We have also heard reports of ground troops on Earth in very large numbers, although we have not been able to verify that.

"The Alliance has _already_ taken losses greater than any in its history. Over one-third of the Alliance Navy was destroyed before Admiral Hackett managed to disengage and escape with the remaining forces. Arcturus Station has apparently been demolished. We have no information as to the fate of Prime Minister Shastri, his cabinet, or the rest of the Alliance Parliament. We estimate about a seventy percent probability that Councilor Udina is now the most senior surviving member of the Alliance government."

I paused for a moment, watching that sink in. All of the Councilors were speechless. Udina had turned a sickly greyish color and was leaning heavily on the table to remain upright.

The door opened again behind me. I didn't look away from the Councilors, but I felt a familiar presence walk up and stand at my side. _Shepard_.

"Councilors," he began. "I'm sure Liara has filled you in on the situation. The Reapers are here, they are attacking Earth . . . and this is only the beginning. We need your help. Everything you can spare."

"Each of us faces a similar situation," said Tevos. "If this _is_ the Reapers, we must see to our own defenses, or face extinction. If we lend you our own strength, our own worlds may very well fall."

Udina stirred. "Colleagues . . . we _must_ fight this enemy _together_."

"So that's your entire strategy?" snapped Valern. "We should just follow you to Earth and throw away our forces in a hopeless battle?"

"I don't expect you to follow us without a plan," said Shepard, turning to me.

"Councilors, there is a possibility," I said. "We have a blueprint, created by the Protheans during their war with the Reapers."

"A blueprint for what?" demanded Valern.

"A device." I called up the Crucible image for the Councilors to examine. "It appears to be a weapon of some sort."

"Capable of destroying the Reapers?"

"So it would seem."

The salarian leaned forward to inspect the images closely. "The scale . . . it would be a colossal undertaking."

Shepard shook his head. "Not necessarily. We've already forwarded the plans to Admiral Hackett. The remnants of the human fleet are already gathering resources to begin construction."

"Our initial calculations suggest the device is very feasible to build," I said, adding more data to the displays.

"_If_ we work together!" Shepard stated.

"Have you considered that the Reapers destroyed the Protheans?" asked Tevos. "What good did this weapon do them?"

Sparatus turned in his chair, staring at Tevos with abrupt suspicion.

I nodded to myself. _Now that the Reapers are indisputably here, Tevos is setting aside all pretense of doubt in their existence._

"My own research indicates that the Protheans placed a great deal of confidence in this device," I said aloud. "They were convinced that it would defeat the Reapers, but they began work on its construction very late in the war. They simply ran out of time. We may have more success, if we seize the opportunity at once."

Tevos stared at us with wide eyes. "Do you truly believe this can stop the Reapers?"

"Liara believes it can work . . . and so do I." Once more Shepard looked around the table, catching each of the Councilors' eyes in turn. "And while I haven't always agreed with Udina, he's right about this. We need to stand together. Now more than ever. _The Reapers won't stop at Earth_. They'll destroy every trace of our civilizations if we don't find a way to stop them."

Tevos glanced to her left to confer silently with Valern. Then to her right . . .

All at once, I realized that Councilor Sparatus was paying no attention to any of the rest of us. One hand rested at the side of his head as he listened to a private comm channel.

"_Spirits,_" he said at last, so much raw passion in his voice that I felt an icy chill down my spine.

"Councilor?" asked Tevos.

The turian slowly rose from the table, his predator's gaze completely unfocused. His hand fell to his side as if the nerves in that arm had been cut. "Councilors . . . I've just received word . . . Palaven is under attack. There was almost no warning. Our forces are fighting back as best they can . . . but the enemy is more powerful than anything we've ever faced."

I felt a sudden burst of vicious rage, which I did my best to keep far away from my face. _What, no air quotes this time?_

"Councilor, we have a proposal on the table," Tevos reminded him. "Should we support the human request to move to the defense of Earth, while commencing work on this Prothean device?"

"I . . ." The turian rallied visibly. "I'm sorry. I can't support such a proposal at this time. I must consult with my government in more detail."

Just like that, Sparatus was up and away from the table, brushing past Shepard on his way out the door. In shock, Tevos and Valern watched the turian depart. Udina simply gazed at the Crucible images, shaking his head in weary disgust.

Tevos sighed. "It appears we cannot lend you the Council's support at this moment. The cruel and unfortunate truth is that while the Reapers focus on Earth, we can prepare and regroup."

"If we can manage to secure our own space," offered Valern, "then we may once again consider aiding you."

"I'm sorry, Commander." Tevos stared at Shepard, not without compassion. "For now, that is the best we can do."

* * *

"They're a bunch of self-concerned _jackasses_, Shepard!"

Back in his office, Udina had recovered some of his strength of will, replacing shock with a _towering _rage. I sat down and leaned back into a couch a few meters away from the Councilor's desk, too tired to do anything but watch as Shepard and Udina discussed the situation.

"We may have saved their asses when _Sovereign_ attacked. We may have a spot on the Council. But humanity will _always_ be considered second-rate!"

"How can they be such fools?" Shepard folded his arms and stared out the windows, watching the aircar traffic on the Presidium ring outside. "Ashley Williams predicted this years ago, while we were fighting Saren. Said the Council would throw humanity to the wolves the first chance they got. I didn't want to agree with her at the time, but _damn_ if she hasn't turned out to be right."

"They're scared . . . and they're looking out for themselves."

"Our _people_ are scared," said a flanging voice, "and we're looking out for them the best we know how."

Councilor Sparatus stepped down into Udina's work area. The change in his demeanor surprised me. Gone was the shock and fear he had displayed in the Council's private chambers. Now he was walking with confidence, his predator's gaze assessing Shepard and Udina with barely a glance for me.

"Councilor," greeted Udina, his emotions now concealed under his smooth diplomat's tone.

"Commander. I've had a chance to consult with the Hierarchy. I still can't give you what you need . . . but I _can_ tell you how to get it."

"I'm listening," said Shepard.

"Primarch Fedorian has proposed a war summit," the turian explained. "He wants to meet with the leaders of the other major powers to discuss a _combined_ effort against the Reapers."

"That's good news. What's the catch?"

"Unfortunately we lost contact with him soon after the Reapers hit Palaven. The summit won't proceed without him. We need to find him and get him clear of the fighting. The _Normandy_ is one of the few ships that could extract the Primarch undetected."

Shepard folded his arms. "So far all I've heard is how I can help you."

"It may _seem_ that way. But if this summit takes place, the leaders there will be the ones deciding our future. The fate of our fleets. Where they fight, and with whom. A grateful Primarch would be a tremendous ally in your bid to unite us."

"We're at war, and you want me to play politician?"

"If it gets you what you need . . . what does it matter?"

Shepard made a disgusted noise in his throat, but then he dropped his arms and nodded in agreement.

"Our latest intelligence says that the Primarch has been evacuated to a base on Palaven's largest moon," said Sparatus. "It's the most heavily fortified position in Palaven orbital space. There or nowhere he can hold out long enough for you to reach him."

"Thanks," said Shepard. "I'll talk to my chain of command and see if I can get clearance for the mission."

"Hmm." The turian cocked his head, staring at Shepard for a long moment. "You know, Commander, I find myself wishing I had taken you and your wife much more seriously a long time ago."

"With all due respect, Councilor . . . we might not be in this mess if you had."

"You may be right." Sparatus opened his omni-tool. "Perhaps I can undo one mistake. I've spoken with the others. If Councilor Udina has no objection, we are prepared to reinstate your Spectre status. That should prevent any interference from your Alliance chain of command, and other resources will be made available to you as well."

"No objection whatsoever," said Udina at once. "I'll also ensure that the _Normandy_ is placed on detached duty under your command, and pushed to the top of the Navy's logistics and personnel queues."

Shepard opened his own omni-tool to accept the Spectre authentication codes. "Thank you, Councilor," he said sincerely.

The turian gave a sharp nod, and then turned on his heel to depart. "Good day."

"Well," Shepard drawled, once Sparatus was well out of earshot. "_That_ went better than expected."

"It's a start," agreed Udina.


	8. Menae

_**0300 Shipboard Time (SSV Normandy), 12 April 2186, Citadel Docks**_

After our audience with the Council, Shepard and I threw ourselves into desperate work. We had reason to hurry. If Palaven was under siege, the Primarch's time might be very limited. Goddess alone knew how we would salvage the situation if we arrived only to find Fedorian a casualty of war.

Before the Reapers arrived, Shepard had boasted that the _Normandy_ could be in the air on an hour's notice. As it happened, Alliance Command had not received _nearly_ that much warning. Fortunately several crewmen had been on board at the moment of the invasion: the pilot, Lieutenant Jeff "Joker" Moreau; the chief engineer, Lieutenant Gregory Adams; and a few other technicians and Marine guards. Once Ashley Williams and James Vega arrived, Ashley took command and got _Normandy_ into the air, rushing to Shepard's rescue in Vancouver harbor.

Somehow the skeleton crew made it to Mars and then to the Citadel, but only at extraordinary risk. In a combat situation we would have found the odds stacked long against us.

I think Shepard first intended to make Lieutenant-Commander Williams his Executive Officer, assuming their personal disputes could be set aside for the duration of the conflict. With Ashley in the hospital, he was forced to re-think. After another meeting with Admiral Saneyoshi, Shepard returned to _Normandy_ and went to talk to Lieutenant Adams on the engineering deck. After clearing the air over Shepard's time with Cerberus, the two men shook hands and Adams was the ship's new XO.

Fortunately Admiral Saneyoshi was willing to see reason, once Shepard had endorsements from Udina and Hackett _and_ a set of Spectre authentication codes in hand. New personnel began to report to the _Normandy_ airlock by the dozen. Shepard and Adams verified that these were _good_ crewmen, not the sweepings of every Alliance post within reach. Equipment, spare parts, and consumables followed. As the hours passed, _Normandy_ came closer and closer to Shepard's notion of combat-readiness.

Meanwhile I worked frantically to convert _Normandy_ into a command node for the Shadow Broker's network. By some miracle I already had most of the equipment on hand on the Citadel, stored away in a secure bay as a "hot spare" for the other five command ships. A word with Lieutenant Adams, and a flying squad of new _Normandy_ crewmen descended on the secure bay like a swarm of _akris_. Within two hours, we had transferred everything to the ship and unpacked it in Miranda Lawson's old office.

Integrating the equipment into the ship's systems was a big job, but surprisingly easy once I asked EDI for help. There were many wide human eyes when the ship's computer began assisting me, actively and with every sign of self-willed initiative. Apparently EDI's status as a full-fledged AI had been kept secret.

In any case, with human labor to install the equipment and EDI to perform system integration, I was online to the Broker network much faster than I had expected. About 0300 we finished the last of the physical labor. I thanked the _Normandy _crew and gently shooed them out of what was now my office. Then I installed my personal authentication codes, connected to the Broker's galaxy-wide network, and verified that I could exercise command functions.

After I ran a series of integrity checks, I transferred my information drone – Glyph – to the office machinery. Then I locked the door behind me and went in search of Shepard.

I found him in the CIC, having an impromptu meeting with Lieutenant Adams, Lieutenant Vega, and three very junior officers who had just transferred aboard. A glance at his face told me everything I needed to know. I caught his eye and gave him _that_ look.

_Shepard, it's time to see to your own needs before you collapse. Or before I wrap a biotic field around you and haul you off to bed by main force._

I have heard a legend that human couples develop a form of telepathy after many years of married intimacy. When asari are involved the process moves _much_ more quickly.

Shepard caught the message, glanced at his omni-tool for the time, and made a microscopic nod. "We need to wrap this up. Lieutenant Adams, you have the conn until 0800, after which the draft watch rotation takes effect. I will come back on duty by 0900, at which time I want us under way and on course for Palaven."

Everyone nodded and murmured acknowledgement of his orders.

"One last detail. This is Dr. Liara T'Soni."

Adams glanced at me, nodded and smiled. He and I were well-acquainted from our time aboard the original _Normandy. _The others looked at me with expressions of surprise or unease. I stood on my dignity, giving the young humans my best aristocratic stare.

"She will be on board as an intelligence analyst and scientific specialist," Shepard continued, glancing around the group with a dour expression. "She also happens to be my wife."

Nobody moved, although I saw one or two pairs of eyes widen.

"That isn't going to be a problem, sir," said Adams, his tone indicating that _it had_ _better not be_.

"Good. Dismissed." Shepard turned to the lift at the rear of the CIC. I followed and fell into place at his side.

"Is my presence here going to be a problem?" I asked once the lift doors closed. "I don't remember there being any issue aboard the old _Normandy_."

"We weren't married then," said Shepard, covering his face with both hands and massaging his eyes for a moment. "Besides, by the time you and I had a serious relationship under way, everyone on board alreadyhad months to get to know you. At the moment, most of our crew average a few hours each under my command."

"You're worried about unit cohesion, if the new personnel see me come to your cabin." I sighed. "Shepard, I could stay down in Miranda's old office . . ."

"No. There's no point in pretending that we're not together." The lift doors opened. He slipped an arm around my shoulders as we crossed to his cabin door. "Liara, are you sure you've caught the implications of what happened to my status while we were on the Citadel?"

I glanced up at his face. "Yes. You've just been appointed an ambassador plenipotentiary."

He stopped cold and stared at me. "_Damn_, you're quick."

"It seemed obvious enough."

I continued into his cabin, glancing at the empty fish-tank, his Star of Terra in a presentation box on his desk, the row of his most prized paper books set out on a shelf above. Something seemed off for a moment, and then I realized that his model ships were missing. I wondered if he would ever have time to rebuild his collection, now that we were at war.

"The Reapers apparently eradicated most of the Alliance government in the first hours of the war," I continued. "At the moment, Councilor Udina and Admiral Hackett are your senior surviving civilian and military officials. In short, those two men _are_ your government. Since both of them have placed their confidence in you – perhaps reluctantly, in Udina's case . . ."

"Yes. Now throw in my reinstated Spectre status, my close and continuing association with the Shadow Broker, and the current _very confused_ situation in the galaxy. Right now, God help us, I may be the best tool humanity has left to pull together an alliance. I think the two of them will support any commitments I make."

"Staff Commander William Allen Shepard," I murmured, stepping close and resting my hands on his chest. "The third most powerful human in the galaxy."

"Maybe." He wrapped his arms around me. "So long as I don't abuse the position and no one asks too many awkward questions."

"I think most of your people have other things to worry about at the moment. So what does that have to do with where I sleep?"

"I may have mentioned that close and continuing association with the Shadow Broker." He gave me a very weary smile. "Liara, all other considerations aside, you and I are going to need a private space to consult and make plans. No sense in having us quartered two decks apart."

"You're probably right."

"The crew will figure it out," he said confidently.

"If you say so." I lay my head against his broad chest and closed my eyes for a moment, letting fatigue get the better of me. "Shepard, this is going to be a terrible time for everyone. You and I are going to need each other more than ever."

"I know." He rested his cheek against my crest, warm and comforting. "On that note, in less than five hours we're going to be on our way to Palaven. We had better get some sleep."

"Oh Goddess," I said suddenly.

"What is it?"

"Shepard, I don't think I have anything with me but the clothes on my back. I didn't take time to buy any personal supplies while we were on the Citadel."

"Hmm. I'm suddenly reminded of a certain asari scientist I rescued from Therum, a few years back. I think we can spare a few things from ship's stores. So long as you don't need something like a Cision Pro Mark 4 toothbrush."

I lifted my head to glare at him. "Is that some kind of joke?"

He chuckled, a low rumble in his chest. "To be honest, I'm not sure. I'll have to introduce you to Specialist Traynor . . ."

* * *

_**0830 Shipboard Time (SSV Normandy), 12 April 2186, Trebia System Space**_

As it happened, I met Samantha Traynor just a few hours later.

Shepard and I managed four hours of restless sleep, interrupted by the first of a series of stress-nightmares on his part. Not nearly enough for either of us, but we pulled ourselves out of bed all the same, rediscovering the morning routine we had established during our brief idyll on Illium months before. I had just finished a shower and emerged from the refresher cubicle when I realized we had a visitor.

"Conmmander Shepard? I'm . . . _oh_."

I glanced over my shoulder and saw a young female human, dark and rather attractive, in an undress duty uniform. Her rank tabs indicated that she was a technical specialist rather than a petty officer. At that moment she had apparently lost her train of thought, her eyes wide as she watched me cross the cabin.

_What is disturbing her?_ Then I realized I was wearing nothing but water and a rather small towel. _Humans and their nudity taboos_.

Finally she found her voice, although it still didn't seem to be entirely under her command. "Uh – oh – er, I beg your pardon! I thought you were alone."

I caught a flicker of amusement in Shepard's eyes as he glanced back at me as well. "Specialist Traynor, this is my wife, Dr. Liara T'Soni."

"How do you do?" she greeted me, still flustered.

"Very well, thank you, Specialist." With malice aforethought, I set the towel aside and began to pull my clothes on. I didn't hurry.

"_Oh_. Oh dear . . ."

Shepard took pity on her. "Slow down, Specialist Traynor. You're doing fine. What's our status?"

"Sir." Traynor finally regained her self-control. "Lieutenants Adams and Vega completed our provisioning by 0600, after which we departed the Citadel for the mass-relay network. We've just dropped into normal geometry in the outskirts of Trebia system. I came up to inform you . . ."

Shepard nodded. "That's fine, Specialist. In future I suggest you place a message in my queue or use the intercom if I'm not on duty."

"Aye-aye, sir. In any case, I just wanted to say that I'm honored to serve under you, Commander. For as long as you need me, of course. I was only here to assist with the retrofits."

EDI's voice broke into the conversation. "_Shepard, some of our systems require further testing. Specialist Traynor was extremely effective during installation. I would prefer that she remain._"

Shepard nodded. "Got it, EDI."

Traynor frowned in confusion. "Wait. Since when does a _virtual intelligence_ express preferences?"

I smiled to myself as I pulled on my jacket. _So here we have another new initiate to this ship's secrets_.

"EDI is an AI," Shepard explained. "Fully self-aware."

Traynor's eyes went wide with chagrin. "Oh! I _knew_ it. I _knew_ Joker was lying!"

"_Jeff requested that I pretend to be a simple VI in order to protect myself. I apologize for the deception._"

"Thanks, EDI." Traynor smiled, shifting her weight with unease. "And I apologize for all those times I talked about how . . . er, _attractive_. Your voice. Was."

"Actually, Specialist, it's a good thing you came to see me," said Shepard. "I understand you're an expert in communications and data management, with degrees in physics and systems engineering."

"That's right, Commander. I'm not really a soldier. I've never even served on board a ship before."

"You'll do fine. Liara, would you join us?"

I walked over to them, my mission outfit in order, picking up a datapad along the way.

"Traynor, Dr. T'Soni is going to be serving as my J2. You will find that she has a very keen eye for useful intelligence, and an _extremely_ broad network of assets and resources. She's a civilian, but I want you to place yourself at her disposal, starting immediately."

"Um, yes, Commander."

I thought fast, seeing some of the possibilities in the arrangement. "Specialist, why don't you come down to my office for a few minutes? I think you would do well as a watch officer in the CIC, with limited access to my network as well as the Alliance channels . . ."

* * *

_**1000 Shipboard Time (SSV Normandy), 12 April 2186, Menae Orbit**_

_Normandy_ dropped out of FTL a few thousand kilometers above Menae. We could see at once that the Reapers were there ahead of us.

Shepard opened the intercom to the staging deck. "James, unlock the armory. Landing party of five: myself, you, Sergeant Tsege, Corporal Vance, and Liara. We depart in ten minutes."

"_Roger that, Commander_."

I glanced at Shepard, wondering for a moment why he wanted me along for the mission, but then I deduced his reasoning. He and I were the only biotics on board at the moment. Once he had issued last-minute orders to Joker and Specialist Traynor, he headed for the lift with me in tow.

"Liara, I have a surprise for you," he said once the doors were closed.

"Will I like this surprise?"

"You'll have to tell me," he teased me, smiling.

_Keep your secrets, then._

I understood as soon as we stepped out onto the staging deck. "Steven!"

Lieutenant Steven Cortez turned from where he was performing final preparations on the Kodiak shuttle. He grinned widely as soon as he saw me. "Doctor T'Soni."

I hurried forward to hug him. "It's very good to see you. Did Admiral Saneyoshi assign you to us?"

"At my very specific request," said the burly, dark-skinned human. "Pass up a chance to serve with the Commander . . . and you? Not on your life."

"Hey, _pendejo_, you know the Doc?" James loomed up beside us, bulkier than ever in his full combat armor, watching the two of us with bemused affection.

"Dr. T'Soni saved my life on Ferris Fields," said Steven quietly.

"Hmm." I shook my head in rejection. "I would argue that Yevgeni Stoletov did that. It doesn't matter. I'm very glad you're here, Steven."

"Good surprise?" asked Shepard.

I gave him a warm smile. "Very good surprise. Thank you."

He nodded, but then his face became set and grim. "That's all the reunion time we have, I'm afraid. Everyone _saddle up_."

We boarded the Kodiak: four human Marines, Steven as our pilot, and me. I caught a few sidelong glances from Tsege and Vance, but under Shepard's watchful eye neither of them stepped out of line. It reminded me of my first days aboard the original _Normandy_, when the human crew knew me only as the traitor Benezia's daughter.

The Kodiak emerged from _Normandy_'s staging bay and began a steep descent to the surface of Menae. All of us got our first good look at Palaven, about twenty-five thousand kilometers away, the planet's night face visibly turning toward us as Menae hurried through its orbit.

Sickly blotches of red-orange light spread across the surface. _The planet was burning_.

"Goddess," I whispered. "_Palaven_."

James glanced at me, concerned.

"We have an old friend there," Shepard explained.

"Holy hell," James groaned. "They're getting _decimated_."

"Strongest military in the galaxy and the Reapers are obliterating it," Shepard agreed bleakly.

"Was it like this on Earth?" I asked.

He turned to look at me with haunted eyes. "Yes."

"Shepard . . . I'm so sorry."

"Yeah."

Steven called back to us from the cockpit. "Commander, the LZ is getting swarmed."

Shepard stood, gathering all of us with his eyes. "James, open that hatch."

The side hatch swung open. The turians had applied mass-effect technology to give the moonlet reasonable gravity and a breathable atmosphere, so at least we didn't need sealed hardsuits. I could see the surface of Menae spread out before us: stone and dust in every possible shade of dull gray, under a merciless black sky full of stars. A fortified outpost stood perhaps half a kilometer away, bristling with guard towers and weapon mounts, all of them pouring fire down onto the surface.

Between us and the outpost was an army of husks.

I barely had time to compose a quick prayer for the Goddess before Shepard leaped to the surface, James and the other Marines close behind. Reflexes kicked in that I had picked up over the past three years. Almost without conscious thought I sprang down and ran to follow.

The husks spotted us at once, even while Steven lifted off to return to _Normandy_. Dozens of them – over a _hundred_ of them – turned to rush us.

_So many. Goddess, there are so many!_

Shepard and his Marines fanned out slightly to form a perimeter, laying down as much fire as four assault rifles could produce. Occasionally one of them would fling a grenade into the seething mass of husks.

I didn't even bother to draw my sidearm. I didn't need the distraction. Instead I watched the husks, tried to sense the ebb and flow of their flocking behavior. The Marines couldn't fire in every direction at once. Sooner or later they would be forced to leave a gap for the monsters to charge through . . .

_There_.

I reached down deep, spreading both arms wide, my corona blazing bright enough to cast shadows across the whole battlefield. With a shout, I placed an _enormous_ singularity in the middle of the gap, catching half a dozen husks and blocking the path for the rest.

Shepard must have been waiting for it. He brought his own corona up, blue-white light appearing around his shoulders and upper arms, even while he continued to fire his assault rifle. My singularity barely had time to take shape, snarling like a great beast shaped out of twisted light, before he flung his right hand out in an emphatic _stop_ gesture. A biotic shockwave slammed across the field, flinging two errant husks into space before it collided with my telekinetic vortex.

The detonation was like a small nuclear charge going off a few meters away. The flash blinded all of us for an instant. The _concussion_ was more felt than heard, a compression wave in the air that slapped my face, drummed on my gut, and nearly shattered my aural membranes. When my senses cleared, I saw an abbatoir of broken and shattered husks in the middle of the field.

I also saw that it wasn't enough. More were on the way. A _lot_ more.

"Squad, slow march, _advance_," Shepard ordered.

We moved forward, into the teeth of the Reaper charge.

I continued to watch the husks, estimating where they would mass next. Twice more I laid down singularities, as large as I could manage. Twice more Shepard gestured with his right hand, mowing down husks and setting off biotic detonations powerful enough to make the very ground tremble.

As we approached the turian outpost, the defenders began to lay down their own fire among the swarming husks. It took some of the pressure off us. Not all of it.

The enemy fell by the score. By the hundred. Several times they came close to swarming us, but we always managed to fend them off with some desperate ploy at the last moment.

I never had time to think, only to react. It was wild and terrifying and glorious.

By the time we reached the gates of the turian outpost, the humans were down to about one thermal clip each, and had exhausted their supply of grenades. I groaned with sheer fatigue, pain like an iron spike in the back of my skull to tell me I had just transcended any limits that might have existed on my biotic power.

Behind us there must have been over three hundred husks, lying broken on the ground.

"I had to see it to believe it," came a turian voice from the top of the nearest wall.

I glanced up.

Garrus Vakarian stood there, his beloved Mantis sniper rifle held at the ready, his mandibles spread wide in a turian grin.

Suddenly I began to think we might win a victory.


	9. Normandy Down

_**1030 Shipboard Time (SSV Normandy), 12 April 2186, Menae**_

At a command from Garrus, the turians opened the gate of their fortified outpost and granted us admission. Shepard hurried forward to greet our friend with a quick hug and an enthusiastic handshake.

"Garrus! We had no idea you were here."

"Same to you," said the turian. "First we heard there was a shuttle in Alliance colors trying to land a squad south of us, in the middle of a sea of husks. Stupid, we all thought. Bunch of crazy humans, just going to get themselves killed. Then there were these big blue-white flashes of light, and this awful noise like someone was dropping small nukes. Somehow I just _knew_ it was you. All I had to do was follow the sound of the explosions. What, did you bring an artillery battalion in your back pocket?"

Shepard grinned. "No, just my bondmate."

Garrus turned to me, his mandibles wide. "Good to see you, Liara."

I smiled and hugged him as well. "You too, Garrus."

Shepard made introductions. "Men, this is Garrus Vakarian. He's one _hell_ of a soldier – he was with me against both Saren and the Collectors. Garrus, I'd like you to meet Lieutenant James Vega, Sergeant Elias Tsege, and Corporal Kieran Vance."

Handshakes followed all around, as the Marines greeted Garrus in turn.

"Well, Shepard, not that I'm ungrateful or anything, but I do have to wonder what brings you here." Garrus glanced over his shoulder, to where Palaven loomed huge on the horizon, marked by fires the size of small continents. "Is the Alliance coming to help?"

Shepard shook his head, his expression suddenly harsh and grim. "I'm afraid not, Garrus. The Reapers hit Earth yesterday, and despite everything the Shastri government did to prepare, we weren't ready. As bad as it looks here, it's twice as bad there."

"I see." Garrus made a gesture, beckoning us deeper into the compound. We followed as he led us toward what looked like a field command post. "So why _are_ you here? Spectre business?"

Shepard gave the turian a sharp glance.

"I've got a few contacts these days," Garrus explained. "I have my inbox set to flag any news with your name attached to it. We got word a few hours ago that you had been reinstated."

"Yeah. Spectre business. Councilor Sparatus sent the _Normandy_ to evacuate Primarch Fedorian, so the war summit he proposed can move forward."

Garrus stopped, glanced back at us with a shadowed look in his eyes. "Primarch Fedorian is dead."

I felt my heart sink. _Goddess. Now what?_

"What happened?" asked Shepard quietly.

"It was getting too hot here," Garrus explained. "He wanted to stay, but his staff insisted on evacuating him out of system. We diverted some ships from the fight over Palaven . . . but his shuttle was shot down when he tried to make a run to reach them."

"Damn. I'm sorry for your loss."

"_Mierda_," growled James. "What do we do now?"

"The turian meritocracy has very clear lines of succession," I pointed out. "Did the Primarch have a successor?"

Garrus shook his head. "Things aren't working normally right now, what with the Reapers blowing big holes in the usual protocols. We're trying to contact Palaven Command to let them know what happened to Primarch Fedorian, and figure out who might be in line to succeed him."

"All right. Who's in command here?"

Garrus hesitated, giving Shepard a glance I couldn't interpret. "The senior line officer is General Corinthus," he said at last, his tone suggesting careful phrasing. "I'll take you to him."

I understood once we arrived at the makeshift command post. The turian in charge was too busy at first to take notice of us, dispatching junior officers and sergeants to deal with crises on all sides. Then he caught Garrus out of the corner of his eye.

Snapped upright. Saluted. "Vakarian, sir! Didn't see you arrive."

"At ease, General," said Garrus.

Corinthus _obeyed_.

I glanced at Shepard, who was doing his best to conceal astonishment. Yes, he had noticed too.

_Garrus has moved up in the turian hierarchy. A long way up._

"General, this is Commander Shepard. His associates: Liara T'Soni, Lieutenant James Vega, Sergeant Elias Tsege, and Corporal Kieran Vance. Shepard, General Lucos Corinthus."

Shepard shook the general's hand firmly. "General. I'm here looking for the Primarch. I understand there's some question as to the succession."

"Yes." Corinthus looked away, watching the disciplined movement of his troops with empty eyes. "Normally the succession is clear, but right now the hierarchy is in chaos. So many dead or MIA."

Shepard put his _command tone_ into his voice. "General, I need someone, and I _don't much care who_. Someone the turian people will recognize as their legitimate leader in wartime."

"We may be able to do that," said the general. "Palaven Command just got through. They've worked out the rules of succession. The next Primarch is General Adrien Victus."

"Victus?" I brought a hand to my lips in surprise. "I know him."

Garrus peered at me. "How?"

"I was on Taetrus during the uprisings, providing intel support to the turian loyalists. Tela Vasir and I worked closely with General Victus for some time."

Shepard made a small, grim smile, reminded of memories I had shared with him.

Garrus was more demonstrative, giving me a double-take. "Wait a minute. You were working _with_ Vasir?"

"This was before the Shadow Broker ordered her to assassinate me," I explained. "She was there in her role as a Spectre. We actually cooperated quite effectively at the time."

"What can you tell us about Victus?" Shepard asked.

"Well, he's here on Menae. I was fighting alongside him this morning." Garrus shrugged. "Lifelong military. Gets results, popular with his troops. Not so popular with military command. He has a reputation for playing fast and loose with tactical doctrine."

"How so?" asked Shepard.

I stepped in. "During the uprisings, my team helped his division uncover the presence of a salarian spy ring in disputed territory. We also learned that the separatists had already discovered the salarians. Rather than neutralize the ring, General Victus fell back. He even gave up valuable fortifications, which the rebels took."

"Then the rebels attacked the salarians," said Garrus, appreciation in his voice. "When both groups had worn each other down, Victus moved back in. Retook the ground he had given up, defeated both the salarians and the rebels. Didn't lose a man."

"Bold strategy," Corinthus commented over his shoulder. "But wild behavior doesn't get you advanced up the meritocracy."

"It does if it _works_," Garrus reprimanded the general mildly. "Primarch Victus. Now _that_ will be something to see."

"You think he can get the job done?" asked Shepard.

Garrus shook his head. "We both know conventional strategy won't beat the Reapers. Right now he may be our best shot. And I trust him."

"Okay. Let's get him on the shuttle and get him out of here."

"_Commander! Shepard, come in!_" Joker, calling from the _Normandy_.

Shepard put his hand to the side of his head. "Can this wait, Joker? We're in the middle of a war zone."

"_We've got a situation on the __**Normandy**__, Commander. We've lost control – it's like she's possessed! Systems coming up and down, life support cutting out, weapons coming online . . . it's a miracle I've been able to keep this comm channel open. We can't find the source!"_

"Damn." He glanced around at the rest of us. "I need the _Normandy_ standing by and at one hundred percent. We may need to bug out."

"I'm surprised that Engineer Adams can't discover the cause," I said. "It sounds like a fault in the central control systems. Perhaps EDI has been affected."

Shepard nodded. "Liara, you've picked up a lot of cyber-engineering experience over the past few years. Call Cortez. Get yourself back to the _Normandy_ and help Adams figure this out."

I hesitated only a moment, long enough to exchange a glance with him.

_Go on, Liara,_ I could almost hear him say. _We'll be fine._

Then I nodded and turned to sprint for the landing zone, already moving to call for pickup.

* * *

_**1100 Shipboard Time (SSV Normandy), 12 April 2186, Menae Orbit**_

"_Normandy_, this is Cortez. I'm inbound with Dr. T'Soni on board."

"_Roger that, Lieutenant,"_ said Joker. _"Staging bay is open. Be advised that you'd better keep sealed up. The kinetic barrier is still in place for now but Adams doesn't trust it. Hate to see you standing there in your skivvies if the air decides to go on vacation."_

"Understood." Cortez glanced at me. "Doctor, you had better suit up."

I nodded and moved back to the passenger compartment, opening a suit locker and changing as quickly as I could. I left the helmet off, attached to my belt.

_Normandy_ loomed ahead of us.

"Better hang on," the pilot warned. "It doesn't look as if Joker has complete attitude control. Might have to improvise a little here."

I followed his suggestion as he maneuvered, apparently tipping the shuttle up on its side in order to line up with the staging bay doors. He landed as smoothly as usual. I patted him on the shoulder before turning to the hatch. "Go back out and be ready to pick up the squad. Things are hot down there. Shepard may need a quick extraction."

"Roger that, Doctor."

I put the helmet on and locked it into place before I signaled for the hatch. As it happened the kinetic barrier stayed up while I crossed the staging bay floor, even while Cortez lifted off and departed once more.

On the other hand, the lift was offline. I activated my communicator, failed to get through the ship's network, switched over to suit radio instead. "Engineer Adams? Dr. T'Soni here. I'm stuck on the staging bay."

"_Doctor, it's good to hear from you. We've got quite a situation on our hands."_

"So I was told. Where are you, and how can I reach you?"

"_There's an access tube in the aft-starboard corner of the bay. Do you still have atmosphere integrity down there?"_

"For the moment."

"_Good. I can't seem to close the bay doors from here, so if the barrier goes down you're in hard vacuum. Get in the access tube as soon as you can. It can act as an airlock if the barrier fails. Come up to the crew deck and I'll meet you there."_

I searched for a few moments and found the access tube Adams had described.

Just in time.

The kinetic barrier flickered and then snapped off. Suddenly the staging bay was full of howling wind, as every molecule of air in the entire space decided to fling itself into the abyss. Fortunately a safety rail was close by, and I had already turned on my boot magnets. I grabbed, held on, and rode out the short-but-fierce storm.

"_Doctor? Are you all right?"_

"I'm fine. A little more excitement than I was really hoping for this morning."

"_I can imagine."_

"Here's the access tube. Give me five minutes."

Fortunately the Cerberus engineers who had built the second _Normandy_ knew their trade. I had no trouble wedging myself into the access tube, cycling the tiny airlock, and then climbing two decks. A touch of claustrophobia set in to encourage me to move quickly. In much less than five minutes I emerged in the life-support compartment, pulling my helmet off with a gasp the moment I felt safe.

I met Adams by the memorial wall. _Not the best of omens._

"Doctor, I'm glad you're here. I think I've traced the problem to the AI core compartment."

"EDI is down?"

"Seems that way. Unfortunately no one in my department is an expert in AI engineering. I was hoping you might have some insight."

I shook my head. "I'm not an expert either. Not that it would make much difference. EDI is unique."

"No idea what might have taken it offline?"

"It has always been very stable. One might almost say _trustworthy_, since Joker unshackled it and granted it free will." Suddenly a thought came to me. "You say the trouble is in its _compartment?"_

Adams shrugged. "That's where the faults in the ship's control network all seem to be coming from."

"Goddess. It's not EDI."

"Doctor?"

"It's the Cerberus mech." I turned to hurry toward the medical bay. "Get more men . . . and arm yourselves!"

I didn't wait to see if Adams obeyed me. I ran through the medical bay, Dr. Chakwas leaping to her feet in shock as I passed, and pulled up at the door to the AI core.

Sounds came from inside. A hiss. A thumping noise.

The door failed to respond to my touch on the control plate. I hastily pulled off the left gauntlet of my suit and accessed my omni-tool to hack the lock.

The door opened.

Flames erupted. I screamed and slammed a barrier down by reflex, barely in time to deflect an incineration charge that would likely have burned my face off. The charge flew into a cabinet to my side, melting the plastic and setting a small fire.

More flames already burned inside the compartment. Smoke rolled out into the medical bay, dense enough to choke me. I kept my barrier up to avoid inhaling the worst of it.

Something moved in the smoke, fast but not as lightning-quick as I had seen on Mars.

Blue-white light surged around my shoulders, down my arms. I hurled a powerful telekinetic throw to knock whatever-it-was off its feet. I guessed it to be the Cerberus mech, but I couldn't get a clear look. _Some_ object flew back and crashed against the back of the compartment with a clatter.

"_Doc-oc-oc-tor . . . t-t-t-sooh-oh-oh-neee . . ." _EDI's voice, horribly slow and distorted.

I stepped into the AI core, straining to see what was happening behind the smoke.

"_. . . ssss . . . sssst-t-t-t . . ."_

_Stasis!_

I brought my hands together before me, cupping them in the control gesture I had taught myself for a stasis field.

A skein of white light appeared behind the smoke, barely visible, coiling around some object as it tried to rise.

_SLAM_. Heavy machinery leaped into action elsewhere in the ship, the sound echoing through the hull.

Footsteps behind me. I glanced over my shoulder and saw Lieutenant Adams with two of his engineers, carrying sidearms and fire extinguishers, wearing breathing masks.

Suddenly I realized that it was quiet, that nothing more was attacking me.

The fire-suppression system finally switched on, dropping water on me from above.

"EDI?" I tried to peer through the smoke, my eyes stinging and running with tears.

I heard a deep sound, like machinery spinning up to full operation, to my left, then to my right. Deep blue lights began to shine through the smoke, processing banks coming back online. Ventilation systems kicked in, pulling the smoke away.

The deliberate _click-click_ of footsteps, coming out of the smoke. An orange glow at eye-height. I stared.

The Cerberus infiltrator mech emerged. It no longer looked even remotely human, water running down its shining silver surface, now clean of soot and grime. I had a moment to appreciate its lines, like the animate statue of a beautiful female human, and then it spoke. "I am here, Doctor."

Adams drew his sidearm and tried to push in front of me, but I held him back with one hand. "EDI? Is that you?"

The mech raised one hand and turned it back and forth, watching the movement with keen interest. "Yes."

"You've transferred to the Cerberus mech?"

"Not _all_ of me," it said. "I have control of it. It was . . . not a seamless transition."

Adams stared for a moment, then lowered his sidearm and turned to examine one of the consoles for a status update. He grunted in surprise. "Looks correct here, Doctor. No sign of any intrusive code, no compute cycles being taken up in cognitive lock. EDI is back in business."

"What happened, EDI?"

"When we brought this unit on board, I began a background process to search for information on the Prothean device."

It felt strange, addressing the mech and hearing the ship's AI respond through it. Still, the timbre and intonation of the voice seemed correct. It _sounded_ like EDI, and that began to convince me. "We finished that task. We have everything that the Mars Archives had on the Crucible."

"Correct. However, Commander Shepard specifically requested that I search for any further data on Cerberus intentions. I therefore continued the background process while performing other tasks. This eventually triggered a trap. A backup power source and CPU activated, and the unit attempted physical confrontation."

I began to see what must have happened. "When did this occur?"

"At 1044 hours shipboard time."

_Just before Joker called to report problems,_ I realized. "What happened then?"

"I was able to resist the mech's attack, but only at the cost of shutting down all other functions. The _Normandy_ was forced to manual backups for the duration of the conflict. Fortunately you were able to intervene."

"My stasis field?"

"It did not entirely shut down the mech's higher cognitive functions, but it did give me a considerable advantage, as my core processors were not inside the field. I was able to gain root access and repurpose the unit as I saw fit. The Cerberus personality has been deleted. This platform is no longer a threat."

I stepped closer, ready to react if it made any sudden movements, but it remained calm and still while I examined it. "So is this now your main cognitive locus?"

"No." It took up an odd posture for a moment, like an asari stretching her muscles, possibly testing its range of free movement. "I continue to exist primarily within the ship's AI core, but this platform should have considerable freedom of movement. For optimal control, it should remain within _Normandy_'s broadcast or tight-beam transmission range."

"That could be useful."

"I concur. _Normandy_'s weaponry is not suited to every combat situation. This platform could provide limited-fire ground support, or perform close-range interface with technological systems."

"You could go with Shepard's ground team?"

"Correct. This platform could accompany the Commander in places the ship itself cannot reach."

"Hmm. I suspect Shepard would want you to perform extensive tests before agreeing to that. He would want you to be able to guarantee there are no more surprises waiting."

"One moment. I am running trials." The mech hesitated for all of two seconds. "Complete. I can send you a full report if you wish. However, my first step should be restoring functionality to the _Normandy_, to reassure the crew that all is normal."

I had to smile. "Don't be surprised if the crew is a little wary of your new body. The last time it was up and moving about, it was _quite_ hostile."

"An excellent point. I will take it to the bridge. Jeff will also want to see it."

With that, it turned and walked out of the compartment, passing Adams and his engineering team, moving in a graceful and unhurried manner. I saw their eyes follow after it in astonishment.

I had to suppress the urge to rush after it, just to see Joker's reaction. Instead I turned to Adams. "Do you see any reason not to trust that's really EDI?"

He shook his head. "I can't find a trace of the Cerberus mech's code in the AI core. It's all EDI in _here_, and if that's the case I can't imagine her missing a trick with respect to that mech. I'd say the Commander has picked up another squad-mate, if he wants one."

I frowned, still uneasy. I had always trusted EDI before . . . but I had also spent long hours translating Prothean inscriptions inveighing against any synthetic intelligence.

_Did the Protheans know something we do not? Or was it their experiences with the Metacon, the zha'til, the Reapers that rendered them so bitterly opposed to synthetic life?_

I knew one thing for certain. Shepard, a relentless xenophile, would be only too happy to integrate EDI into his ground team. It fit both his pragmatic approach and his moral instincts. I could almost hear him say it: _If it can help us fight the Reapers, I want it working with us. Besides, all life deserves a chance. No exceptions._

I loved him for that openness to the Other. I had seen it over and over, ever since his first kindness to a certain asari scientist.

I also worried that one day it would turn around and betray him.


	10. Assessments

_**1430 Shipboard Time (SSV Normandy), 12 April 2186, Menae Orbit**_

Within a few hours, Engineer Adams had everything in good order once more aboard the _Normandy_. Even the staging bay was neat and tidy, thanks to a squad of very efficient Alliance technicians. All of us worked hard to repair and reset systems that EDI's battle against the Cerberus mech had damaged.

After the initial surprise, EDI's mobile platform quickly won the acceptance of the crew. Word had already spread that _Normandy_ possessed a full-fledged AI integrated into ship's systems. From there, most of the crew had no difficulty dealing with the notion of that AI "wearing" a humanoid platform and assisting directly in their duties.

Joker, of course, was _ecstatic_.

The pilot had already become EDI's closest friend on board, their relationship dating back to the war against the Collectors. The new platform matched many of his criteria for feminine attractiveness. He immediately asked EDI to keep it on the bridge, "for morale purposes." Since it could make itself useful as Joker's sensor operator and copilot, EDI agreed at once.

Of course, Joker's morale was not the only issue at stake. Engineer Adams soon discovered other male crewmen manufacturing reasons to visit the bridge. After two hours of this, he ordered EDI to have the platform put on an Alliance undress uniform . . . purely to comply with military protocol, of course. Joker started to complain, but Adams put on his _not-putting-up-with-your-bullshit_ face, and the pilot subsided.

Thus _Normandy_ had become a healthy and reasonably happy ship once more by the time Shepard returned, his squad in good condition and several turians in tow.

About a dozen of us stood ready on the staging deck when the shuttle arrived. Once it touched down, the hatch opened and Shepard's Marines emerged, taking up an honor-guard position on the deck, standing at attention with weapons at port-arms.

Shepard stepped down and took a position at the head of his squad. "Honors!"

A crewman produced a small pipe and blew a piercing call upon it.

All the Alliance personnel on the staging deck snapped to attention and saluted. For an instant I felt quite out of place, the only non-human present, but then my own old lessons in deportment came to the rescue. I assumed a traditional asari posture of dignified respect.

Adrien Victus stepped down onto the deck.

He didn't _look_ like one of the galaxy's foremost heads of state. He stood at average height and build for a male turian, wearing a scuffed suit of combat armor with no unusual insignia. His face-paint showed signs of long inattention. One could be forgiven for passing him by in a crowd, until one looked into his eyes, burning with strength of character.

Shepard completed his salute, followed by every other human on the deck. "Welcome aboard the _Normandy_, Primarch Victus."

"Thank you, Commander." The Primarch didn't sound like a great leader, either, his flanging voice a smooth, very soft baritone.

"May I present my other officers? Lieutenant Gregory Adams, our chief engineer and XO. Dr. Karin Chakwas, our ship's surgeon. I believe you know Dr. Liara T'Soni, our intelligence officer and chief scientist."

"Lieutenant Adams. Dr. Chakwas." Victus turned to me, his mandibles wide in a turian smile. "Dr. T'Soni. I somehow suspected you would appear at the Commander's side."

I bowed slightly and gave him a smile. "Primarch. It's good to see you again. I wish it were under better circumstances."

"On that we can agree. Commander, my aides, Arran Lapadian and Tyrus Skavros. You already know the _propraetor_ Garrus Vakarian, of course. Now I think we've observed all the ceremony we can afford. May we be shown to our quarters, and then to your command center? There's a lot of work to be done."

"Certainly, Primarch." Turning to the humans in attendance, Shepard barked, "Honor guard, _dismissed!"_

The crew broke formation and set out for their duty stations. Lieutenant Vega led Cortez and the other Marines of the landing party to disarm and start maintenance of their gear.

"Commander, _Normandy_ is in good order and ready for deep space," Adams reported. "Do you have a heading for us?"

"Yes. Have Joker set a course for the Gemmae system. Primarch Victus tells us that the Reapers are there already, but not in strength. We may be able to free up some turian forces for Palaven if we carry out a hit-and-run raid."

"Aye-aye."

"Thank you, Commander," said the Primarch. "I will admit that I'm still trying to comprehend the whole strategic picture. If I could have an hour or two with any intelligence feeds you have available?"

I nodded. "I can see to that, Primarch. We are already integrating information from Palaven Command and the colonial militias into our own data stream . . . which I think you will find very rich."

The Primarch's eyes gleamed for a moment as he stared at me, his mandibles wavering in obscure amusement. "Of that I have no doubt. Thank you, Doctor. I will meet you in your command center in half an hour. Then, Commander, this evening I would like to hold a planning session with you."

Shepard nodded. "Of course, Primarch. I'll block out some time in the conference room starting at 1700."

With that, he turned to lead the turian party toward the lifts, clearly planning to arrange for their accommodations personally. I was left behind with Garrus.

"_Propraetor?"_ I asked at last.

Garrus made a discontented rumble deep in his chest. "You know how we turians are. We love to spread empty titles around."

"That is _not_ an empty title."

"I suppose not." He sighed. "Long story, Liara. Let's just say that with a lot of help, I finally got my own people to start paying some attention to the Reaper problem. And since I'm the closest thing the Turian Hierarchy has to an expert on the Reapers . . . they had to move me a few steps up the ladder so that the right people would take my advice seriously." He paused again, looking uncomfortable. "Well. More than a few steps."

"Good. It was well-deserved." I rested a hand on his cowl, just brushing his hide with affectionate fingertips. "I'm glad you're here, Garrus. This is going to be a terrible war. We're going to need all our friends."

"Hmm. I suppose I had better go find the gun room. Those Alliance engineers don't get turian systems. They've probably fouled up the weapon calibrations no end. Maybe I'll throw down a few rugs, make it nice and homey."

I could see the pain deep inside him, no matter how much dry wit he tried to muster to defend it. "Garrus . . ."

"I'll be okay, Liara."

"Your family?"

He shook his head in silence.

"I'm sorry."

"Last I heard they were bugging out," he said wearily. "My mother doesn't travel easily, given her condition, but my dad and my sister are pretty damn resourceful. If anyone can get out of that mess, they can. There's nothing I can do to help them. All I can do is support the Primarch from here . . . and you and Shepard, of course."

"That's more than enough. Come on, we have a planning session to prepare for."

* * *

_**1700 Shipboard Time (SSV Normandy), 12 April 2186, Interstellar Space**_

"My name is Liara T'Soni. I am the Shadow Broker."

I stood at the head of _Normandy_'s conference table, my back to the large display screen. Primarch Victus, Garrus, and the Primarch's aides sat along one side of the table to my left, Shepard, Lieutenant Adams, and Specialist Traynor along the other to my right.

I found it very interesting to see who did _not_ show any evidence of surprise at my announcement. Shepard and Garrus already knew, of course, as they had been present when I took over the former Broker's network. The aides, Lapadian and Skavros, suddenly went very tight-mandibled and sharp-eyed. Adams did a double-take, and Samantha Traynor nearly dropped her mug of coffee.

Primarch Victus, on the other hand, did not so much as blink.

_I thought as much_.

"I request that fact not leave this room," I continued. "It's rapidly becoming one of the galaxy's worst-kept secrets, and with the Reapers here there may soon be no point in further concealment. I would still prefer to keep the information at the level of rumor for the time being."

Shepard sent a significant glance down his side of the table. Adams gave a decisive nod, Traynor an anxious one.

"I agree, Doctor," said Victus. "Please continue."

I called up a galaxy map on the wall behind me. My voice fell into a professorial cadence.

"Five days ago, the Reapers attacked Khar'Shan. The Batarian Hegemony does not appear to have put up any significant resistance. My analysts believe that a number of senior civilian and military leaders were _indoctrinated_, their minds conditioned to act on behalf of the Reapers, even before they arrived. These 'sleeper agents' shut down defense and communication grids, turned weapons platforms against their own people, and took other steps to prevent any effective defense. Khar'Shan fell within hours.

"Yesterday, large Reaper forces surged across the mass-relay network to attack both Earth and Palaven.

"Alliance forces put up more resistance than the batarians managed, but they were unable to prevent a large-scale invasion of Earth itself. The Reapers have decimated the Alliance's civilian government and destroyed Arcturus Station. The remnants of the Alliance fleet, about two-thirds of the total, have withdrawn and remain operational under the command of Admiral Steven Hackett. Scattered forces on Earth are currently organizing a resistance against the Reapers, although it is not clear what they will be able to accomplish.

"The Reaper force attacking Palaven has met with _considerable_ resistance. Under Fleet Admiral Irix Coronati, the fleet managed to destroy several Reaper capital ships, over a dozen destroyer-class ships, and many troop transports. The turian fleet still remains in place to contest Palaven orbitals. Despite these successes, Reapers ground troops have landed in force on Palaven. Turian ground forces, including local militias and armed civilians, are contesting their homeworld almost meter by meter.

"The Reapers' objectives are clear. They intend to eradicate every trace of high-technology civilization in the galaxy. To that end they are killing as many as they can reach . . . but they are also _harvesting_ batarians, humans, and turians at every opportunity. We believe some of the harvested will eventually be used as raw materials for the construction of one or more new Reapers. For now, the rest are being repurposed as ground troops. Warped batarians, humans, turians, and even krogan appear to make up the bulk of the Reaper army.

"Not all the news is bad. Reaper forces have not yet entered salarian or asari space in significant numbers, nor has the Citadel come under threat. Reaper attacks in the Attican Traverse have been minimal, and there appear to be no Reaper forces as yet in the Terminus Systems. For whatever reason, the Reapers appear to be concentrating on batarian, human, and turian space for the time being."

"Not surprising," said Skavros, his voice deep and harsh. "With all due respect to Dr. T'Soni, her people are not a military power on the same level as the species under attack. Neither are the salarians. Clearly these Reapers are concentrating first on the points where they expect the strongest resistance. Once those have been reduced, the rest of the galaxy will be nothing but a long mop-up operation."

I nodded. "My analysts concur with your assessment, sir."

"There's something I don't understand," said Lapadian, staring at the galaxy map. "There are quite a few high-population worlds out in the Terminus Systems, vulnerable since they don't have the protection of any of the major powers. Why aren't the Reapers attacking out there?"

"Cerberus," said Shepard flatly.

"Hrr?"

"We've received reports that Cerberus is operating quite widely in the Terminus Systems," I explained. "Several days before the Reapers arrived, a large force under the command of General Oleg Petrovsky took control of Omega and drove Aria T'Loak into exile. Using Omega as a base of operations, Cerberus forces have been mounting raids and full-scale assaults across half the galaxy. My network has very little visibility into Cerberus at the moment, so I have no clear assessment of their immediate objectives. I can't even say for certain where Cerberus is getting so many ships and troops. However, I have evidence to suggest that Cerberus is at least temporarily allied with the Reapers."

"_What?"_ For the first time, the Primarch lost his bland composure.

"It's true," said Shepard. "Yesterday my team defeated a Cerberus raiding party on Mars. We discovered that Cerberus troops have been _augmented_ with Reaper technology. This makes them better soldiers, but I think we have to assume that it also places them under at least indirect Reaper control."

"Cerberus leadership may or may not be aware that they are supporting Reaper objectives," I pointed out. "The Illusive Man appears to believe that _he_ can seize control of _them._"

"That sounds a lot like some of the delusional ranting we heard from Saren Arterius," said Victus.

"Yes," Shepard agreed. "It would be just like the Reapers to use Cerberus as a proxy, the way _Sovereign_ used Saren. That would free up their main force to attack our strongest points."

"That's the strategy of an enemy who believes himself to possess overpowering force."

Shepard nodded silently.

"Nonsense!" said Skavros, leaning forward. "We've already destroyed a few of these Reapers. We can destroy more. Palaven will never fall!"

Victus only shook his head.

I stepped in, framing my body language to project _respectful regret_ to turian observers. "Sir, with all due respect to Fleet Admiral Coronati, he had tactical surprise and was able to take advantage of his position near the mass relay. The Reapers countered almost immediately, forcing him to withdraw and defend Palaven. The correlation of forces since then has been entirely in the Reapers' favor. No more of their major platforms have been destroyed."

"She's right," said Victus. "Even Coronati took out less than two percent of the force that's attacking Palaven. We have to face facts. We can slow this enemy down, we can bloody them if we get lucky, but that's all. Palaven almost fell during the Krogan Rebellions, and the Reapers are much worse . . ." Suddenly the Primarch trailed off, his eyes losing their focus.

"So what's the plan?" demanded Skavros. "The Alliance is doing all it can to defend itself and start the construction of this Crucible device. What about the salarians and the asari?"

"Busy shoring up their own borders," said Shepard, a trace of cynical irony in his voice. "Unless they've been more responsive to your calls for help than they were to ours."

"No," said Lapadian. "Although the Salarian Union _has_ at least expressed willingness to attend a war summit, even with Primarch Fedorian dead."

"Well, that's a start . . ."

"The krogan," said Victus.

Everyone fell silent, staring at the Primarch.

His eyes focused once more, watching Shepard. "Commander, we can't put any faith in the Council, as your own people have had cause to discover. Much as I would like to have the _Destiny Ascension_, ten thousand asari commandos, and the STG fighting for us, I know that's not going to happen. I still need to take some of the pressure off my own people before I can promise any help for yours. I need something to stop these Reapers in their tracks. That only thing I can think of that might do that is a lot of krogan boots on Palaven."

Shepard suddenly looked as uncertain as I had ever seen him. "That's . . . a very tall order. Sir."

"I know. The krogan hate my people, and they have good reason." Slowly, still holding Shepard's gaze, Victus leaned forward and rested his forearms on the table, lacing his fingers together. "I can't ask the krogan to come help us. _But you can_."

"Maybe," said Shepard. "Urdnot Wrex is a friend. He trusts me. I don't know if he trusts me that much."

"All we can do is ask. See if he will attend this summit."

"What incentive can we give him?"

Victus tilted his head back slightly, giving Shepard an ironic look. "A formal alliance with your people? Circumventing the Council entirely? I think he might jump at the chance. Even if it means allying with the Turian Hierarchy at the same time."

Shepard shook his head in disbelief. "I'll ask. But only from a safe distance."

* * *

_**1930 Shipboard Time (SSV Normandy), 12 April 2186, Interstellar Space**_

The planning meeting broke up. Shepard finally went off-duty. We retired to the crew deck for a late dinner, where I found myself almost too tired to _chew_. The past two and a half days had included many hours of intensive work, several episodes of combat, extensive use of my biotics, all the stress of the Reaper invasion, and four hours of not-very-restful sleep.

_If the whole war is going to be like this, I have no idea how I'm going to survive to the end of it._

Of course, Shepard had several billion credits of Cerberus implants to help him stay active and alert. _Nothos_.

I will admit that it felt very, _very_ good to strip down, take a hot shower, stumble into the bed, and then have a large warm human wrap himself around me.

"Tomorrow," he murmured in my aural cavity.

"Must we?" I said, turning my head slightly and opening my eyes to gaze into his at close range.

"I think so. Liara, maybe Primarch Victus is willing to sit down with the krogan, but we still have to convince the asari and the salarians to come to the summit. Not to mention persuading Wrex that it's in his people's best interest to give us the time of day. In the morning, can you and Traynor start working the Broker network?"

"I think so. I assume you want recommendations on the best angle of approach for each party. Also any leverage the Broker might have to _encourage_ everyone to sit down together."

"Yeah." He closed his eyes and rested his head on my shoulder, his arms around me tightening a little, his breath very warm on the folds of flesh along my neck. "In the morning."

"In the morning," I agreed, closing my eyes once more and feeling a certain heat. "Hmm."

"Liara?"

"Shepard . . . do you suppose you could make love to an asari who is too exhausted to be very responsive? Knowing full well that she might fall asleep halfway through the process?"

He raised his head to give me a sharp-edged grin. "I don't know. That sounds like a challenge."

"Whatever it takes to engage your attention."

I didn't fall asleep. Certainly not after the first few minutes. Toward the end I looked up into his face, gasping at the waves of pleasure rolling through my body, and felt such a tide of desire that I could hardly bear it.

_I want. I want so much. I want him with me, calm and at peace. I want . . ._

I didn't know quite what I wanted, aside from _more of him_. Not then.


	11. Big Damn Heroes

After that first terrible day of the war, _Normandy_ settled down to a kind of routine.

Shepard set out to put his ship's speed and mobility to good advantage, raiding and scouting across turian space. He led an away mission every day, two on some days, smash and grab and back aboard before dinner. A flotilla helped to escape from the Reapers here, a crucial scientist extracted from a Reaper-beset colony there, a war banner of great cultural significance recovered in a third place.

I remained on board ship throughout this time. I was too busy being the Shadow Broker: coordinating my network's activities, overseeing the evacuation of T'Soni Analytics personnel and equipment from Illium, feeding intel to the Alliance and Primarch Victus, slowly gathering influence to encourage the proposed war summit.

The summit! What a disaster, almost from the beginning.

Primarch Victus supported the idea of a war summit, so Councilor Sparatus did as well, and Shepard stood ready to represent the Alliance. Yet we all knew that would never be enough . . . and at first _no one else_ was willing to join us. Urdnot Wrex wanted extensive guarantees before he would even consider taking part. Councilor Tevos, speaking on behalf of the Asari Republics, simply declined to "waste her time" on the conference. The two most senior _dalatrass_ in the Salarian Union refused to even be in the same room as any krogan. With the Reapers marching on all of us, the most influential leaders in the galaxy thought only of themselves and their own stubborn pride. Victus, Shepard, and I played the diplomatic game, cajoling and persuading and making subtle threats, but at first nothing seemed to work.

Every evening Shepard and I met to have dinner together in the crew mess. Then we worked for a few more hours, sometimes together in the war room, other times apart, usually well into the night shift. Then we would retire to his cabin. Sometimes we made love before we slept, other times sheer fatigue forbade us anything but some cuddling and talk. It didn't matter. For all that we had been lovers for almost three years, the time we had truly been able to live together could be measured in mere weeks. It was a great luxury just to lie safe in my bondmate's arms, even while I knew the galaxy was falling apart around us.

When a thousand worries kept me awake, he would rub my back and shoulders until I turned into a boneless puddle. When he awoke in the middle of the night, shouting his way out of some nightmare, I would hold him close to whisper love and comfort in his ear.

Already we had work to do, to keep each other sane.

Then came the next catastrophe.

* * *

_**1100 Shipboard Time (SSV Normandy), 17 April 2186, Interstellar Space**_

"Report," commanded Shepard, his face looking grim and unusually pale.

I touched controls, turning the holographic display in the center of the War Room into a star map. Shepard, Garrus, EDI, Traynor, Primarch Victus and his aides, all of them watched as I filled the map with data.

"Yesterday at about 1800 our time, Cerberus attacked Noveria." I marked one star in a bright green color, on the outer edge of the Scutum-Centaurus Arm, about ten thousand light-years from Earth. "It's not clear where the Cerberus force came from, but it's clearly quite large. Noveria's planetary defense network appears to have gone down without firing a shot, possibly subverted in advance. Port Hanshan fell within an hour, after which Cerberus detachments seized control of a dozen corporate research facilities scattered along the Aleutsk Valley. I have fragmentary reports to suggest that Cerberus is digging in to hold the planet, setting up troop staging areas and fighter bases."

"What's their objective?" asked Victus.

"That's unknown at this time, Primarch. I speculate that Cerberus might be interested in the corporate facilities on Noveria, or in some of the cutting-edge research projects taking place there."

"Noveria's also well-placed as a staging point, to strike into either human or salarian space," Garrus observed.

"That's true. Subsequent events seem to bear that out." I touched more controls. More bright green stars appeared, this time further out from the galactic core, in the Sagittarius Arm and even in the Orion Spur where Earth itself was located. "Starting this morning at about 0200 our time, more Cerberus forces launched a rapid series of attacks across most of Alliance space. A large force has attacked Eden Prime and occupied the entire colony. Smaller raiding detachments have struck Benning, Elysium, Intai'sei, and Terra Nova. Wherever the Cerberus home base may be, their supply lines appear to run through the Pax system and Noveria."

"No attacks into the Salarian Union?" asked the Primarch.

"Not yet. They're targeting human colonies only, for now."

Victus made a turian frown, his fangs bared and his mandibles tight against his jaw. "Commander, what effect is this having inside the Alliance?"

Shepard nodded grimly. "Devastating, Primarch."

"Explain."

"Admiral Hackett is still struggling to reassemble the Alliance fleet and get started on the Crucible project. He's mustering our naval assets well away from any primary mass relay. That prevents the Reapers from simply surging out and destroying what's left of the fleet. The downside is that Hackett can't react quickly to a sudden offensive like this." Shepard leaned forward, bracing his arms against the rim of the holographic stage. "So here Cerberus is attacking colony after colony, and what's left of the Alliance can't seem to muster an effective response. This is having a _terrible_ effect on morale. Admiral Anderson estimates that if we can't turn this around, and _fast_, the resistance on Earth may collapse before it gets started."

"Commander, I sense that you're about to ask a favor of me."

"That's right." Shepard took a deep breath. "Sir, I need to take _Normandy_ back to Alliance space. I need to find a way to stop Cerberus, and do it in a loud and highly visible manner. I mean to send a message to billions of people who are struggling just to stay alive for one more day: someone out here is still fighting, still standing up to our enemies."

The Primarch nodded. "I concur. The alliance we want to forge won't happen if humanity collapses."

"We can drop you and your aides off at the Citadel first."

"No." Victus gave Shepard a sharp predator's stare. "We'll stay aboard the _Normandy_."

"I can't ask you to leave turian space. Not while the Reapers are on Palaven."

"Then don't ask. We'll do it anyway." Victus smiled slightly. "I can coordinate the turian war effort just as well aboard _Normandy_ as anywhere else. Possibly better. I have access to all my own intelligence and command-and-control channels, and I see Alliance and Shadow Broker intelligence feeds as well. Send me to the Citadel and I would probably _lose_ effectiveness."

"Liara?"

"The Primarch is right, Shepard. _Normandy_ is ideally suited as a command post, so long as the comm buoy network stays up and we remain connected."

"My people are pragmatists, Commander," Victus said. "They will be concerned with what works, not with style and appearances. Besides, having the Primarch of Palaven standing at your side as you fight your own renegades . . . that sends a message too."

Shepard nodded. "That it does. You have my profound thanks, sir."

"Let's just make it worthwhile. Do you have an objective?"

"Liara?"

"We may," I agreed. "Actually, Specialist Traynor did the relevant analysis."

Traynor nodded. She had full control of her voice when she spoke, although I noticed her accent had become a little thicker under stress. "Dr. T'Soni and I were going through Alliance message traffic less than two hours ago. We saw a distress call from the Grissom Academy station above Elysium. They're concerned they may be hit soon by _both_ the Reaper and Cerberus invasion fronts, and they're requesting evacuation."

"Grissom Academy," mused the Primarch. "Isn't that a training facility for many of your most exceptional young men and women?"

"That's right, sir," agreed Shepard. "Many of the students are very promising young scientists, engineers, mathematicians, and military officer candidates. The Academy is also the central facility for humanity's Ascension Project, our gold-standard training program for young human biotics. For many humans, the Academy is a symbol of the best our species has to offer."

"I see. What do you propose to do?"

"Well, sir, a turian transport responded to their distress call, so normally I'd say we don't need to do anything." Traynor worked at her console and brought up a packet-analysis graph. "But something seemed _off_ in the turian signal. On a hunch, I brought EDI in and we performed an analysis. It's fake. The message headers aren't formatted properly."

"Someone trying to pass themselves off as a turian ship?"

"I think it's Cerberus," said Traynor. "EDI said something about a fake turian signal that lured the _Normandy_ to a Collector ship, a few months ago. This could be more of the same. In any event, whoever faked the signal wants us to think the Academy is being evacuated, but I believe they're still in danger."

"I concur," I said. "I think the conclusion is obvious. As a first step in opposing the Cerberus offensive, I recommend that _Normandy_ proceed at once to Elysium and forestall any attack on the Academy."

Shepard and the Primarch exchanged a silent glance. I noticed that Shepard's color had improved, his expression speaking of confidence and determination once again. Victus gave a short, sharp nod.

"Shepard to bridge. Set a course: best time to the Trebia mass relay and then to the Vetus system. Pull out all the stops, Joker, it's time for us to be big damn heroes."

"_Again,"_ said the pilot dryly. _"Don't worry, Commander, we'll be there in three hours or less even if I have to get out and push."_

Shepard grinned at Traynor, the first time I had seen him smile in days. "Good catch."

* * *

_**1430 Shipboard Time (SSV Normandy), 17 April 2186, Grissom Academy/Elysium**_

Five of us boarded the Academy station, by way of an auxiliary cargo hatch since Cerberus had blocked the main docks.

_"Commander Shepard, this is Kahlee Sanders. My console tells me you've made it aboard. I'm barricaded in a security office around the corner from your position. Cerberus troops are trying to get in."_

"Roger that, Dr. Sanders." Shepard hurried forward. "Double-time, people."

He was first to the door at the end of our corridor. He opened it, only to see four Cerberus troops clustered around another door about twenty meters away.

He didn't even draw a weapon.

I barely had time to see him snarl in anger. Then he shimmered, vanished, a perfect flash-charge down the length of the corridor into the midst of the Cerberus fire-team. With a howl of rage, he raised a fist and _hammered_ it down on the deck. His barriers surged in a great wave of blue-white force, lashing out in all directions, picking up the troopers and slamming them against the walls.

None of them stirred after that.

I stared at Shepard as the rest of us arrived. "Goddess. When did you learn to do _that?"_

Garrus and James checked the bodies. Shepard's _nova burst_ had killed all four of the enemy: broken necks, shattered spines, fractured skulls, all despite their armor.

"Like I said, I had six months of nothing much to do but train. I finally got to explore all the possibilities of this _vanguard_ function Cerberus grafted onto me. I even ran a training course on the QT for other Alliance biotics."

"I've only ever heard of asari performing that kind of eruption of force."

"That's our Shepard," said Garrus, a note of grim humor in his flanging voice. "Pushing the boundaries of human evolution three different ways before the lunch break."

Shepard made a fractional smile, just enough for me to notice. Then he turned to the door the dead Cerberus fire-team had been trying to open. "Sanders, we're clear. It's me."

The door opened and Kahlee Sanders rose from behind cover, carrying a shotgun at the ready.

I knew Dr. Sanders by reputation, of course: current director of the Ascension Project; one of the Alliance's foremost experts on cybernetics, artificial intelligence, and biotic amplification; long-time associate and occasional romantic partner of Admiral David Anderson; secretly the daughter of the famous explorer and war hero Jon Grissom. Sanders had been present when Saren Arterius betrayed Anderson, preventing him from becoming the first human Spectre. More recently she and Anderson had clashed several times with Cerberus.

Intimately familiar with her dossier, I wasn't prepared for her considerable force of character. As a young woman she had permitted great events to simply carry her along, victim of an uncertain and even timid personality. Now close to fifty years of age, experience and tragedy had tempered her character, transforming her into a mature and very effective person. Her body language spoke of alert, decisive confidence. Even her physical appearance was striking: tall and athletic, with finely-chiseled features, startling silver eyes, and long hair of a white-gold color that I had never seen on a human before.

Somewhat to my surprise, I found her quite attractive, the first time I had ever experienced such a reaction to a _female_ human. I carefully filed the datum away for _much_ later consideration.

"Commander, thank you," she said. "Admiral Anderson always said you were the best . . . and with Cerberus coming for my students, I need the best."

"How many of you are there?" asked Shepard.

"Fewer than twenty. Most of our students and staff were evacuated as soon as word arrived of the Reaper invasion. A few volunteered to stay, to assist with the war effort. Some are prototyping advanced tech for the Alliance. Others are the strongest of our biotics, training for military operations, working together as biotic artillery."

"Cerberus has always been interested in human biotics," I pointed out. "We've been encountering elite Cerberus troops with biotic talents. I think that explains why they are here."

"That's right . . . Dr. T'Soni, isn't it?" Sanders nodded as she sat down at a security console. "They're rounding up as many of the students as they can find. Hang on. I've been trying to get communications working . . ."

She touched keys, and suddenly a male voice came over comms, choppy with static. _"This is Froeberg! There are students trapped in Orion Hall. Cerberus has us boxed in. They're closing fast!"_

"Damn it!" cursed Sanders.

"Orion Hall?" asked Shepard.

"Back out the door and down the hallway. I can get the doors open in front of you."

"I'll bring them back here, along with any other students I find, and we'll make a run for the shuttle."

"Thank you, Commander. I'll stay put. With luck, I can regain control of some of our systems."

Shepard gathered us with his eyes, and we moved out.

* * *

At first it was easy enough. Shepard, Garrus, and James led, while EDI and I remained behind to use our technical and biotic abilities in support. We encountered Cerberus forces, but not yet in large groups. Shepard alone was often able to take them down by ones and twos with his new _charge-nova_ tactic. If the Cerberus leadership knew of our presence, they failed to mass their forces against us.

Possibly they were too busy playing with the station's PA system.

_"Attention all students. Cerberus forces have taken control of this station. We have no desire to hurt you. Surrender and you will not be harmed."_

Shepard smashed a team of two Cerberus troopers, rescuing a young male human who had erected a formidable biotic barrier.

_"Resist us, and we cannot guarantee your safety."_

We heard a small sound and discovered a young woman in hiding, already suffering from a minor gunshot wound. I rushed forward to apply medi-gel and first aid, enough to permit her to get to Sanders under her own power.

_"We understand that you're scared. Your teachers have filled your heads with Alliance propaganda. But Cerberus can keep you safe. We're the only ones who can."_

A girl fled madly and was shot down from behind. Shepard growled in rage, charging the whole Cerberus squad, fighting desperately in their midst while the rest of us supported him with gunfire and biotics. Once we had dealt with the Cerberus troops, I bent to examine their victim. She was thoroughly dead, a small entry wound in the back of her skull, most of her face gone.

_"The Alliance has failed you. Earth has fallen."_

Another squad rushed around a corner and spotted us. _"Armed hostiles!"_

Shepard was caught off-guard for a moment, choosing to take cover and rebuild his shields and barriers. This time we fought conventionally, taking the Cerberus troops down one at a time. Garrus got the chance to try his sniper rifle against the new Cerberus armor, finding that headshots still worked very effectively. EDI used misdirection, setting up holographic illusions to direct Cerberus fire away from the rest of us. I used telekinetic pulls to yank Cerberus troops out of cover. Shepard and James laid down a dense field of fire, killing anything exposed for more than a moment.

_"There are Alliance soldiers on the station. They claim they want to help you, but all they're doing is threatening your safety. Don't risk getting caught in the crossfire. Surrender now."_

Another corridor, and then we saw it: _Orion Hall_.

Three Cerberus troopers stood in our way, busy working on a piece of equipment until they noticed our presence. They didn't last long.

"Shepard, look at this," I said. "A computer, a network shunt, a portable generator, all plugged into the station comms . . ."

"Stand back," he ordered, and discharged his shotgun into the generator at point-blank range.

_"Is this thing working?" _Sanders's voice sounded over the PA system, replacing the unctuous voice of Cerberus. _"Shepard, you're a miracle worker. Students, if you can hear me, this is Kahlee Sanders. I am still alive, and help is coming! Commander Shepard and an Alliance team are here to rescue us. Stay safe. Get to me if you can, or send me a message if you need help. I'm in the security station near the room where we had Holly's birthday party."_

"Smart lady," muttered Shepard, as we approached the final door to Orion Hall.

The door opened. We heard gunfire. Shepard rushed forward, the rest of us a shaved second behind him.

My heart leapt into my throat. Out in the middle of a great open space, several unarmed students stood out of cover, uncertainly giving ground. Cerberus forces, armored and armed to the teeth, converged on them. I expected at any moment to see several young humans cut down in cold blood.

Then one of the human figures, a slender female, made a vicious control gesture. Blue-white force lashed out, blasting four Cerberus soldiers head-over-heels through the air.

_"Eat this!"_

Reddish-brown hair in a strip cut along the top of her head, a highly non-standard outfit consisting of a short vest and baggy leggings, tattoos on every square inch of exposed skin . . .

"Jack!"

The biotic turned. "Shepard?"

_CRASH._

Off to our left, another door into the hall slammed open. Through it hunched a massive mech, its Cerberus pilot scanning the room and picking out targets.

One of the students was out of place, standing far from any cover in the mech's direct field of fire.

Jack's reaction was as fast as anything I might have expected from Shepard. She sprinted, slid along the deck to interpose herself, then in an instant she rose to her feet and ignited with biotic power. When the mech fired its main cannon, the shot was _deflected_ by Jack's diamond-hard barrier.

The mech rose to its full height, confronting Jack, who stood her ground. Feral expression, almost-white corona blazing, biotic power swirling around her hands, she looked ready to tear the mech apart.

Shepard was already running to support her. We followed, firing on the mech and the remaining Cerberus troops. The mech turned slightly to face us.

That gave Jack the moment she needed to withdraw, covering her students as they ran for cover. "Everyone get down – this thing's outta your league. Shepard, keep it off us!"

Easier said than done.

I had seen a number of reports about these new _Atlas_ mechs, rolling out of some Cerberus factory and onto a dozen battlefields in just the past few days. They packed much more firepower than the YMIR models we had often faced during the war against the Collectors. With a human pilot they could also react far more intelligently.

We scattered, using what little cover we could find. Shepard, Garrus, and James pelted the mech with gunfire, while EDI and I kept the remaining Cerberus soldiers busy. I tried to remember what I had seen about possible vulnerabilities in the Atlas design.

"Shepard, the pilot's canopy," I transmitted over our team comms. "It's not as well protected as the rest of the mechanism."

"Roger that. Garrus?"

The turian adjusted something on his sniper rifle, crouched behind cover, lined up his shot, and fired.

I saw a star-pattern suddenly appear on the mech's canopy. It swung toward Garrus.

Cool and controlled, every movement utterly precise, Garrus shifted no more than a degree or two and fired again.

The canopy shattered. The pilot inside slumped lifeless. The mech rocked back on its "heels," lowering its weapons and going silent. After that, the remaining Cerberus soldiers were much less of a challenge.

A peal of malicious laughter broke out as we gathered in the center of Orion Hall. Jack leaned out over a railing from a balcony high above. "Now that's the kind of shit I remember. Kahlee said she was sending out an SOS. Didn't think _you_ would show up."

Shepard grinned up at Jack as he stowed his shotgun on its attachment point.

"All right, _amp check!"_ Jack barked, turning to the students behind her. "Prangley, those barriers were weak. Cerberus isn't going to lie down out of pity like that girl you took to prom."

Tired, frightened, the students still responded to Jack's tirade. I saw a few of them _smiling_.

"Is this the Jack you and I remember?" I murmured to Shepard.

"Well, it _sounds_ like her. I kind of like it."

"Grab juice and an energy bar, we move in five." Then Jack was vaulting over the railing, her biotics flaring as she reduced her mass and came to a perfect landing ten meters down, on the floor where we waited.

She strode across the deck to meet Shepard . . . all coiled energy that erupted into a vicious right cross along his jaw as she reached him. More than twice her mass, wearing heavy armor, trained for combat, Shepard still staggered when that blow landed.

"God _damn_ it, Shepard! How many times did I tell you _not to trust Cerberus?"_

He stood tall again, massaging his jaw carefully to test for loose teeth. "Heard, understood, and acknowledged, Jack. Although even I didn't think the Illusive Man would go rogue quite this bad."

"Live through Teltin for ten fucking years," Jack spat, "and then tell me just how _rogue_ Cerberus can go."

Shepard only nodded.

"I see you still have some anger-management issues," I greeted her.

"Oh, I manage my anger just fine. Mostly by beating the shit out of anyone who gets in my way." Jack gave me a wicked grin. "So, Blue, you still fucking the King of the Boy Scouts here?"

James made a strangled noise. I felt the blood rush to my face, but managed to hold my ground. "Every chance I get, Jack."

"Good." She shook her head. "All right, I'm still pissed off at you, Shepard, but we can hash that out later. Right now all I care about is getting my kids out of here."

"_Your_ kids?" Shepard asked gently.

She chuckled and glanced up over her shoulder, to where a dozen or so young humans were busy refreshing themselves and seeing to minor wounds. "Yeah. I guess so."

"I can't think of anybody who could care about them more."

"Yeah, well, I had some free time while you were off playing hero. Not to mention the Alliance had a charge sheet on me a mile long. Since you were nice enough to get me amnesty as part of your deal with them, that wasn't such a big problem, but I still needed something legit to do. They offered me this." Her voice rose so the students could hear. "And _apparently_ the students respond well to my _teaching style!"_

"The Psychotic Biotic!" shouted Prangley.

"I will _destroy_ you!" screeched a young woman, imitating Jack's combat bark with uncanny accuracy.

"Drink your juice, Rodriguez. Right now you couldn't destroy wet tissue paper."

Our radio comms crackled. _"Cortez to extraction team. That Cerberus cruiser is coming back. Two minutes, tops, then there's no way we'll get past them."_

Shepard thought for a moment, glancing up at the students we were there to rescue. "Get out of here and back to the _Normandy_. We'll find another way off this station."

_"Roger that. Good luck, Commander."_

* * *

With help from Kahlee Sanders, we planned an attack _through_ the main mass of Cerberus troops, hoping to reach the invaders' own shuttles and evacuate that way.

Unfortunately, our path took us straight through the station's atrium: open space, limited cover, and plenty of avenues for an enemy to come up on our flanks. We were outnumbered roughly six to one. Not to mention that Cerberus had a number of combat engineers available, placing savagely powerful automated turrets to channel our attack and make us pay for even a moment's exposure.

Shepard's biotic flash-charges were of no use, except as a short-range tactic. We had to fight the old-fashioned way: dig in behind cover, watch our flanks, and pick off the enemy one by one. Shepard and I _did_ put our biotics to good use, detonating one another's fields to tear big holes in the Cerberus line. It also helped that Jack and the biotic students supported us, looking down from a balcony high above the atrium. They poured warps and singularities down on Cerberus positions. Several times, only their intervention kept us from being overwhelmed.

We held our ground. After a time, we began to advance. A few minutes after that, we broke them.

"Everyone all right up there?" called Shepard, as we double-timed our way out the far side of the atrium.

_"Rodriguez took a hit . . . because __**she didn't watch her barrier!**__"_ said Jack, still imparting instruction. _"Nothing medi-gel won't cure. Meet you at the shuttle bay."_

_"Kahlee Sanders here,"_ came another voice. _"I'm almost there myself, with a few more students. Watch out though, Commander. From the Cerberus chatter I'm picking up, they're getting ready for a counter-attack."_

"Roger that, Dr. Sanders. We'll be ready."

We opened another door. To our surprise, we found _one_ Cerberus soldier, a combat engineer working to repair yet another Atlas mech, with no other support in sight.

Shepard made a truly _vicious_ grin.

The Cerberus soldier looked up . . . just in time to see my bondmate flash-charging into his face. It was probably the last thing he saw, since he then flew twenty meters and shattered half his bones against the far wall of the corridor.

"EDI, think you can get this mech operational?"

EDI stepped up to the mech, raising one hand to an open access panel, short fine cables extruding from her fingertips to plug into interface points inside. "Give me thirty seconds."

"Do your best." Shepard climbed up into the pilot's seat, closing the canopy behind him. Soon enough, whole banks of status lights began to burn green, and the massive engine on the mech's back spun into life. "All right, _let's go._"

We opened the great doors, deploying out into a vast hall, with a fountain and a tall bronze statue of Jon Grissom in the center. Rushing to the back of the space, we took cover and waited for Cerberus to arrive, Shepard in his mech at the center of our line.

It didn't count as much of a battle. For Cerberus, it was a slaughter.

* * *

_**1800 Shipboard Time (SSV Normandy), 17 April 2186, Vetus System Space**_

When it was all over, _Normandy_ on its way back to the mass relay with over twenty of humanity's brightest young minds on board, I sought out Shepard. I found him in the starboard crew lounge, sitting and sharing a quiet drink with Jack and Kahlee Sanders.

"Liara, come join us."

"Thank you, Shepard, I think I will. Is there any Scotch left?"

Shepard passed me the bottle and a tumbler as I collapsed into a comfortable chair. I sipped at the whiskey and sighed in contentment, closing my eyes as the peaty taste rolled across my tongue.

Sanders watched me with some interest. "I don't think I've ever seen an asari drinking human liquor before."

"I acquired a taste for it after I met Shepard. It was a comfort during the period when he was . . . missing." I opened my eyes and stared at the blonde woman with regret. "Dr. Sanders, I feel I owe you an apology."

"How so?"

"I had agents on Omega a few months back, while you and Admiral Anderson were trying to locate Gillian Grayson." I had to pause, watching the expression on her face. "We were hoping to save her as well. In the end, we just didn't move fast enough. Kai Leng is . . . a formidable opponent."

"Hmm." Her eyes became hooded, her face rigid with anger. "It seems all of us have reason to hate Cerberus."

"You said it, Kahlee." Jack hurled the entire contents of her glass down her throat in one convulsive movement. "Speaking of which, yeah, I'm glad we got the kids off the station, and I'm glad we've decided how they're going to contribute to the war effort. The question is, _now what?_ How are we going to kick Cerberus ass so hard that they crawl back into whatever hole they came out of?"

"I have some ideas about that," said Shepard. "First, _Normandy_ is going back to the Citadel. Dr. Sanders, from there you and your young scientists and engineers can make your way to Admiral Hackett. He has a very large-scale project, critical to the war effort against the Reapers, that I think you'll find interesting. Jack, the Admiral concurs that you and your students should form the core of a biotic support cadre."

"Good," said Jack. "I'm not comfortable putting the kids on the front line. They're not ready. But none of that answers my question, Shepard."

Shepard took another sip of his drink and nodded. "Eden Prime. Back where it all began."

"We heard that Cerberus has occupied the planet," said Sanders. "God alone knows what kind of brutalities they're inflicting on the poor colonists. But why there?"

"Alliance intel reports that the archaeological teams working on Eden Prime discovered something remarkable just before the war began," I said. "A Prothean artifact, like nothing they had ever seen before. That seems to be the focal point of Cerberus interest. So we go in and hopefully steal the artifact out from under their collective noses."

"And if we can help the colonists fight back against the Cerberus occupying force along the way, all the better," said Shepard. "One thing worries me, though. It's great that we've managed to give Cerberus a bloody nose, and I'm all for doing that as often as needed, but we also need to get the word out somehow. Give the people back on Earth a reason to dig in and keep fighting."

I smiled and said nothing.

Shepard saw it. "Uh-oh. T'Soni, you've got that _look_ on your face again. What are you thinking?"

"Nothing _too_ frightening," I assured him, producing a datapad from inside my jacket. "I might have a solution to the morale problem, that's all."

Shepard took the datapad and examined it closely, Jack and Dr. Sanders watching him with interest.

_Diana Allers, reporting for the Battlespace._


	12. The Survivor

_**1630 Local Time, 22 April 2186, New Providence/Eden Prime**_

The Second Battle of Eden Prime began just before local dawn at the New Providence settlement. Colonial resistance forces emerged from cover and launched a fierce counterattack against Cerberus, pulling the enemy out of position. Then _Normandy_ swept out of the sky, a dark shadow against the just-risen sun. Thanix cannon obliterated the three missile emplacements placed to protect the Cerberus dig site. Then the stealth frigate hovered over a landing zone just outside the settlement, pouring soldiers onto the surface.

Shepard and James Vega led two squads of Alliance marines, the _Normandy_'s full complement of troops. Kahlee Sanders and Jack led another dozen young biotic specialists, lightly armed and armored but ready for their first engagement. Garrus Vakarian and Tyrus Skavros represented the Turian Hierarchy. EDI had sent her mobile platform to provide technical support.

The Shadow Broker went with the assault team as well . . . just in case someone needed the expertise of an archaeologist who had once specialized in the Protheans.

Eden Prime in the early morning. Blue skies flecked with cloud, cool breezes, hillsides lush with green.

The stench of unburied corpses.

As we moved toward the dig site, we found colonists lying in the open, most of them apparently shot down as they tried to flee. Shepard sent Marines into a few homes on either side, to find more colonists killed in their homes. All were several days dead. Cerberus must have slaughtered the whole settlement as soon as they arrived.

"Take a good look, kids," said Jack, her face pale with suppressed rage. "This is what Cerberus is all about. This is what they do."

One of the young female biotics, the one named _Rodriguez_, suddenly dashed to the side to heave her morning meal into the bushes.

"Jack . . ." Sanders tried to voice a protest.

Shepard interrupted. "She's right, Kahlee, and you know it."

Sanders stared at him with wide eyes, her face drawn and pinched.

Shepard turned to the young biotics and raised his voice. "You all wanted to fight. That's good. Everyone who _can_ fight has a right and an obligation to help, when all our survival is on the line. But I can't sugar-coat this for you. War is a bloody, vicious, ugly business. This war is going to be much worse than most. You're going to have to grit your teeth, focus on doing what you've trained to do, and work to _stop_ the bastards who do things like this."

Rodriguez stood, blinking tears out of her eyes. "Commander . . . how do you see something like this . . . and keep going?"

Jack scowled, obviously ready to lash out at the girl, but kept silent to defer to Shepard.

"I won't lie to you, Ensign. It's tough, and it never gets any easier." Shepard stepped forward, put a hand on the young woman's shoulder. "The best advice I can give you is to remember that you're not alone. You've got people who care about you, friends, teammates who will stand and fight at your side. Give them strength when they need it, and they will do the same for you."

The young man named _Prangley_ joined them, giving the girl a pat on the back. "He's right. Come on, Rodriguez, we need you."

Shepard turned, and for just a moment gave Jack an intent stare. I could read what he was thinking.

_You're not alone any more either, Jack._

The tattooed woman shot back a glare full of sparks, but then she nodded in acceptance.

"You heard the man. Fall in and let's get this sh—" Jack caught herself. "This _job_ done."

We moved deeper into the settlement. I looked around and shook my head in despair. "This was such a beautiful place once."

"They get hit by Saren and his geth, and then this happens," agreed James. _"Pobres_ just can't catch a break, can they?"

"They can come back, even from this," said Garrus. "Just so long as we win."

"They rebuilt Mindoir," said Shepard wearily. "It wasn't the same."

_As if I needed any more reasons to hate Cerberus_, I thought. After the geth attack of 2183, I had diverted a large portion of my inheritance from Benezia, well over a billion credits, to an anonymous trust for the Eden Prime colony. For a time it had seemed to help. _All that work gone to waste._

James opened his omni-tool to glance at a map. "Hey, Loco . . . now that I think about it, wasn't this where you first ran into Saren?"

"Yeah." Shepard pointed to one side. "They found the beacon over on the other side of this settlement, about five kilometers off in that direction."

"This town must have been built right over an old Prothean site. Big one. Maybe it was a whole city, or a military base of some kind. You think the colonists knew when they came here?"

"No, Lieutenant," I told him. "I first visited here not long after the First Contact War. At the time your people knew very little about the Protheans, only what you had managed to recover from the archives on Mars. I advised the colonial government on how to cope with the wealth of artifacts they had just begun to discover. At the time none of us had any idea anything of value was under New Providence."

"Brought 'em nothing but bad luck, it looks like." James glanced back at me, a gleam of humor in his eye. "You ever dig up any dinosaurs when you were working a site like this, Doc?"

"No. Dinosaurs would be paleontology. I'm an archaeologist. I study the artifacts of prehistoric sentient cultures . . . and you were joking."

The burly Marine grinned. "Hey, I just like dinosaurs."

I almost rebuked him, but then I glanced around at the others. Vega's chatter had lightened the mood. Even the young biotics had recovered somewhat from their earlier shock. So instead I caught the Marine's eye, smiled slightly, and nodded in approval.

"There's the dig site," said Shepard.

We hurried forward, stopping on the edge of a big open pit. The human archaeologists had dug an _enormous_ sampling trench, excavating down well over a dozen meters into the soil and rock. I frowned, disapproving of such careless technique.

_Goddess alone knows how many small or delicate artifacts they destroyed by digging so quickly. Not to mention that they couldn't possibly have preserved the context._

Still, it appeared the humans had plenty to choose from. Even at first glance, I could see Prothean artifacts still left at the bottom of the pit, more than I could count at once, some of them quite large.

"Look at that," murmured Garrus. "Bits of Prothean tech just sticking out of the ground, like old bones."

"Where's the artifact everyone was so excited about, Liara?" asked Shepard.

I glanced around, saw a computer console positioned by the lift the humans must have used to descend to the bottom of the pit. I touched the controls, finding little or no security in place, and went searching for work logs. "Here we go . . ."

I froze, staring at the text on the screen, my fingers recoiling slightly from the controls.

Shepard must have seen something in my face. "Liara?"

"_Goddess_. This . . . doesn't seem possible."

"What is it?"

"The scientists here didn't simply find a Prothean _artifact_. They found _a Prothean."_

"_What?"_

I glanced aside, seeing that Shepard was not the only one dealing with sudden surprise and wonder. Dr. Sanders, James, Garrus, even the Primarch's man Skavros, all of them watched us with keen interest. Only Jack seemed unmoved, scanning the horizon with a worried expression on her face.

"They discovered a Prothean life pod, very similar to the ones we saw on Ilos, but this one still had power and appeared to be operating normally. Presumably with a living Prothean still inside." I stared at Shepard with wide eyes. "If she could be revived . . . Goddess knows what she could tell us. She might be able to provide us with insight about Admiral Hackett's project."

My bondmate nodded decisively. "Okay. Where is the pod now?"

"The colonial team didn't have time to move the pod before Cerberus attacked. Cerberus brought the pod up to the surface and transferred it into a makeshift lab. They're trying to determine how to open the pod without killing its occupant, reviewing Prothean data records recovered with the pod . . ." I turned to scan the surroundings, identified one building about a hundred meters away, on the other side of a short bridge. "Over there. That structure has been converted to a makeshift lab."

"_Heads up!"_ shouted Jack.

Three Cerberus shuttles roared out of the south, zooming low over our heads. Within moments they stopped, hovering over the lab facility I had just identified. They began to vomit soldiers, the flare of landing jets repeated a dozen, twenty, thirty times as Cerberus troops took up positions.

Shepard lost no time. By the time the Cerberus troops had deployed, so had we: Marines under cover as far forward as we could manage without trying to cross the bridge, Garrus and Skavros just behind them with sniper rifles at the ready, the biotic cadre under cover in the rear. I ducked down in the center of the biotic students' line, right beside Kahlee Sanders.

"Okay, you've done it under practice, now let's see if you can do it under fire," Jack shouted.

Gunfire began, rapidly rising to a low roar like a great sheet of canvas tearing from top to bottom. I heard Shepard issuing orders over the Marines' comm channel.

"Prangley, Rodriguez, set it up. You're the anchors. Put the edge of the dome about four, five meters ahead of the Marines. Ready?"

I counted Cerberus troops. They outnumbered us, perhaps two to one. Then I saw targeting lasers lash out from elevated positions in their line. "Snipers," I reported over the Marine channel.

"I see them," said Shepard.

"Time to play," Garrus rumbled.

A dome of force snapped into existence in front of us, but it didn't last long. Up, down, up again, it flickered and shimmered, evanescent as an idle daydream.

The Marines fired back, but Cerberus was putting out more gunfire than our team could manage, and their snipers were a terrible threat. I saw blue-white flashes in our line as kinetic barriers deflected Cerberus fire. It was only a matter of time before we began to take casualties.

_BOOM_. Garrus fired. A Cerberus sniper staggered, fell from her nest atop a building across the bridge.

Shepard growled in frustration. I remembered his own proficiency with a sniper rifle, back before he died above Alchera. Cerberus had rebuilt him as a close-quarters fighter, his reflexes and biotic talents tuned to charge into the midst of the enemy line. Annoying, when the battle had to be fought at range.

"Come on, kids, _synch up_." Jack muttered.

The young biotics struggled. They had trained for this, but only in simulations. Real combat presented its own challenges.

A strangled shout from off to our left. One of the Marines had exposed himself for a moment too long. He went down, seriously wounded, his nearest teammate slapping the medi-gel tab on his armor.

The barrier flickered out again.

I closed my eyes. Reached out with my mind. Felt the play of gravity and dark energy around me.

The humans had more than enough power. What they lacked was _finesse_, the fine control that only came with experience.

I raised my hands in a gesture of _forbidding_.

A little more power _here_, just a touch of destructive interference _there_ to keep everything in synch . . .

"_There!"_ Jack growled. "Feel what Blue's doing. Right there! Match her!"

The barrier snapped back on. I could feel the young humans synching up with me, one after the other. Then Jack added her contribution, matching my own micro-adjustments with almost asari precision. I thought I recognized Samara's touch in her work, doubtless the result of long hours of training on the _Normandy_ staging deck.

I opened my eyes and saw blue-white force arching over us in a great dome, solid as granite. Cerberus gunfire suddenly lost more than half its effectiveness, most of it deflected to scream over and past us in every direction.

"Marines, _we have cover,"_ Shepard snapped, new confidence in his voice. "Return fire!"

The Marines began to take some risks, exposing themselves to line up their shots, and the gambles paid off.

The iron mathematics of small-unit battles: the side who can deliver the most _effective_ weapons fire is likely to win. Cerberus had more guns, but they lacked Shepard's tactical instincts, the Alliance's weapons discipline, our biotic barriers. Suddenly _we_ outnumbered _them_, by the only measure that counted.

Sergeant Tanaka was killed by a sniper's headshot. Corporal Randolph went down, shot through both lungs, but another soldier was quick enough with medi-gel to seal the terrible wounds and save his life. Tyrus Skavros took a gunshot through one shoulder, but he growled, switched to his assault rifle, and continued to fight.

"By the numbers, _advance!_" ordered Shepard.

"Okay, here's where it gets interesting," Jack told her charges, her voice firm but glacially calm. "The Marines are going to move forward. So are we, _by the numbers!_ That barrier stays up, and it stays in front of the guys with the guns!"

The barrier shook slightly as the young biotics understood the challenge before them. Jack shifted slightly and took up the load, keeping them all in synchrony without my help.

"Even numbers!" shouted Shepard.

"_Moving!"_

The first rank of Marines moved forward, throwing themselves prone on the bridge where no cover could be found. That much closer to the Cerberus lines, their fire proved even more effective.

Jack and the first biotics moved up as well.

The barrier wavered for just a moment as it slid into its new position. I stood ready to take control once more, but then I saw no need. It held firm. If anything, it grew _stronger_ as the second rank of biotics moved up into cover the Marines had just abandoned.

I slowly eased away from the barrier, letting Jack take up more and more of the load. Before long, only humans kept our protection in place. I switched to Shepard's private channel. "I'm free for action, love. Let's pick some targets."

I couldn't see Shepard's face, but I could hear a sharp grin in his voice as he called up blue-white power around his right fist. "Oh, those sorry bastards are _fucked_ now . . ."

That turned out to be prophecy.

* * *

Cerberus continued to probe at our defenses, but once we occupied the lab facility and dug in, we found we had little to fear. Cerberus forces came at us a few squads at a time, piecemeal, as if they had no way to coordinate an assault. Our surviving Marines and the biotic students kept the enemy at bay for well over an hour.

We had no direct communication with the Eden Prime resistance, but _Normandy_ reported that they pressed Cerberus hard on all sides of New Providence. No doubt that accounted for the desultory nature of the attacks on us. Meanwhile, Kahlee Sanders got access to Cerberus networks, mining them for all manner of useful intelligence on the occupying force. We forwarded all of that through _Normandy_ channels to the resistance leaders, who responded with enthusiasm.

Shepard, EDI, and I worked on the problem of getting the Prothean out of his life pod intact. Only Shepard and I understood the Prothean language. Apparently the Cipher had _not_ survived the recording process that gave Cerberus access to most of my conscious memories, so EDI did not have it and neither had the Cerberus scientific team. On the other hand, EDI could interface directly with the Prothean life pod and Cerberus networks, extracting data for Shepard and me to interpret.

We saw personal logs, apparently first recorded by the occupant of the life pod fifty thousand years before.

_Eden Prime . . . the world once called Takenu . . . under attack. The Reapers overwhelming every defense._

_Figures in armor, wielding beam weapons, vaguely resembling Collectors but not warped or twisted, moving with agility and dignified strength. Prothean soldiers, fighting back against the Reapers and their servants._

_A project to preserve hundreds of thousands of Protheans. Soldiers, engineers, scientists, everyone who would be needed to rebuild a Prothean civilization after the long night of the Reapers. All under the leadership of one individual._

_Explosions. A breach in security. Distorted parodies of the Prothean form, the proto-Collectors, swarming into the sealed facility._

_Life pods destroyed, the lives within ended, the last hope of civilization lost._

_The leader, despairing and alone, fighting with mad ferocity, all to no avail._

_A last desperate measure, neutron bombardment to kill the enemy, giving the facility a chance to seal itself shut at last._

_The leader alone in his life pod. Consciousness slipping away. Knowing that the plan had failed. Knowing that he might not awaken for tens of thousands of years. If he ever awakened at all._

* * *

Cerberus scientists had placed the life pod on a wide balcony, just outside the labs where they had tried and failed to read the Prothean records. Shepard and I stood by the pod, hesitating for a moment before we did anything irreversible. Gunfire had sounded a few minutes before, some Cerberus probe being repelled by the Marines below us. For the moment all was silent.

"No sense waiting, Liara. Open it."

I bent over the pod, opening the control panel and touching three controls in rapid sequence. The pattern of lights and icons on the panel changed, and then changed again. Panels snapped open on the side, permitting gas under pressure to vent.

The clamshell doors on top of the pod opened with a decisive _click_, folding to either side.

The Prothean lay inside, still covered with a fine layer of ice that at once began to melt in the sunlight.

"_Goddess,"_ I breathed, overcome by that first sight of him. "It may take him some time to fully regain consciousness."

At first he remained motionless, but then I saw his fingers twitch, his eyes start to flutter. They opened, four strange yellow orbs with doubled irises, fighting to focus on the world.

He saw me first, then Shepard.

He shouted, a deep roar, expelling fifty-thousand-year-old air from his lungs.

Green fire lashed out at us, picking us both up and flinging us backward. A biotic surge, not quite like any other I had ever experienced. I had to grab at a computer console to avoid hitting the balcony rail.

The Prothean hauled himself out of his life pod, turning to scan all of us as he staggered away. Suddenly his broad, flat head froze in place, no longer twisting as if to see everything, all of his eyes focusing on one of us alone.

_EDI_.

I had no experience reading Prothean expression, but for an instant his emotions were plain for even me to read. _Terror and rage._

Then his feet tangled and he went down, sprawling on his back, rolling to crawl away from us if he could not run.

Shepard rose to his feet once more, turning to follow the Prothean.

"Be careful, Shepard!" I called. "He's confused."

The alien reached the balcony railing, pulled himself partway up, and then froze once more. While he leaned on the rail, his eyes turned to take in the entire horizon: the green hills, the human settlement, the pit containing the last few pitiful remnants of his entire civilization.

Shepard reached to help him back to his feet.

"Remember, for him it's only been a few minutes!"

Shepard grasped the Prothean's arm. His fingers touched the alien's skin, for just a moment. At once he recoiled, his eyes and mouth wide with shock, staggering backward.

"_Rrrh,"_ said the Prothean. _"How long?"_

I didn't stop to think, I only opened my mouth and the syllables flowed out. _"About fifty thousand years."_

"_The rest of my people?"_

Shepard shook his head, recovering his wits. He answered, also in fluent Prothean Fourth Age dialect. _"Your life pod was the only one still active."_

The Prothean leaned hard against the balcony rail, looking around at all of us. _"Humans. Asari. Turians. I am surrounded by primitives."_

"_We may have made some progress since your time,"_ I said mildly.

"_Doubtful."_ He turned, steadier now on his feet, and glared at EDI. _"And that . . . __**machine?**__"_

"_An ally,"_ I said firmly.

"_You are fools. It is nothing but an abomination."_ He shook himself, looked more closely at Shepard and me. "_Rrrh._ I hear weapons fire. What is happening?"

I gasped. The last two sentences had been in clear English, albeit with a noticeable accent.

"We recovered your life pod in the middle of a battle against renegade humans," said Shepard in his native language. "You can understand me?"

"Yes. Now that I have read your physiology, your nervous system. Enough to understand your language."

"So you were _reading_ me, while I was seeing . . ."

"Our last moments," said the Prothean heavily. "Our failure."

Shepard moved to stand before the alien. "I saw what happened to your people. I know you must be grieving . . . but they died fifty thousand years ago. My people are dying right now. So will everyone in the galaxy if we don't act. We need your help."

The Prothean frowned, considering what Shepard had said.

"_The cycle continues,"_ I said in Prothean, to give the words added weight. _"The Reapers have returned. We struggle for our survival, just as you once did."_

"Will you join us?" asked Shepard.

"You fight the Reapers?"

"Yes."

"Then we will see."

Shepard nodded, extending a hand for the Prothean to take.

The alien ignored the overture, turning to walk back to his life pod and recover the rest of his gear.


	13. Encounters

_**1700 Shipboard Time (SSV Normandy), 22 April 2186, Interstellar Space**_

As soon we reached _Normandy_, I led a party of three Marines to escort the Prothean to his assigned quarters on the engineering deck. He stalked through the corridors, utterly silent, ignoring the stares of the human crew. Once he arrived at his destination, he set his ancient weapon aside, dropped his gear on the floor, and knelt on the deck plating. His gaze fell to the deck a meter or so in front of him, and he appeared to sink into a fierce meditative state. He refused to speak or answer questions.

At first the Marines wanted to place him under armed guard, multiple assault rifles trained on him, as if he was a dangerous prisoner. I called Shepard to complain about this treatment, and convinced him to issue a countermanding order. Instead we placed a single guard outside the compartment, armed only with a heavy pistol, to prevent idle visitors and provide a polite escort should the Prothean wish to explore the ship.

I recalled what little I knew of Prothean living arrangements, and had the crew bring furnishings and equipment: fabric hangings for the walls, two standing trays that could be filled with pure water, a computer console, a storage rack for his weapons and gear, an austere cot in one corner. The alien did not voice any approval, but neither did he raise any objections. He seemed to take no notice of our efforts at all.

By the time Shepard arrived, I had taken a position at the far end of the compartment, my arms folded, simply watching the Prothean. He had moved hardly a muscle since taking up his kneeling position half an hour before. Only with Shepard's appearance did he shift slightly, raising his head and opening his eyes to glare at us both.

"How is our guest?" Shepard asked.

"I can hardly tell. He hasn't said a word since he boarded the ship. I've tried to make the room more accommodating, but I don't know whether it's done any good."

"He hasn't made any hostile moves?"

"He hasn't made any moves _at all_, hostile or otherwise."

Shepard crossed the deck, looking down at the Prothean. "I don't think we need to worry. Our guest isn't going to be a problem."

The Prothean rose to his feet, staring at Shepard intensely with all four eyes.

"Is he?" Shepard prodded.

"That depends on you," growled the alien. Quick as a striking serpent, he stepped forward and seized Shepard, his bare hands on Shepard's skin.

I suppressed the urge to jump to Shepard's defense. The Prothean didn't seem to intend any harm, and I could guess what he was attempting to do.

"I can sense fear in you. Anxiety and distress. The Reapers are winning."

He released Shepard, turning to one of his pools of clean water. He began to wash his hands.

Shepard asked, "What do you mean, _you sense?"_

"All life provides clues for those who can read them. It is in your cells, your DNA. Experience is a biological marker."

"Then what did I experience back on Eden Prime? That was one hell of a flashback."

"Our final battle left its own mark on me. I communicated this to you. It can work both ways."

"Like your beacons?" I suggested.

"Yes. Which . . ." Once more the Prothean reached out to touch Shepard, this time more gently. Almost at once he recoiled, giving my bondmate a hot yellow-eyed stare, his voice rising to a shout. "You _found_ one. You saw it all, our destruction, our warnings! Why weren't they heeded? _Why didn't you prepare for the Reapers, human?"_

"The name is _Shepard,_ my rank is _Commander_, and nobody could understand your warnings. I was the one who interacted with the beacon, and it nearly killed me."

"_Rrrh_. Then communication is still primitive in this cycle."

"We pieced together what we could, and used it to stop a Reaper invasion three years ago. After that our leaders thought the threat was over. We didn't have enough clear evidence to convince them otherwise."

"Yet the extinction was delayed?"

Shepard nodded.

I stepped forward, activated the computer console I had set up for the alien's use. The Crucible schematics appeared. "Now we have your plans for the device. We're going to build it."

"Device?"

"_The Crucible_. Yes. The weapon your people were working on. The blueprints we have aren't complete. I'd hoped you could tell us how to finish it."

The Prothean examined the schematics closely for a long moment, and I permitted myself to hope. Then he bowed his head, his eyes closed in dejection. "We never finished it. It was too late."

"Then I take it you don't know anything about _the Catalyst_," Shepard said wearily.

"No." The alien leaned hard against the console, his back still turned to us. "I was a soldier, not a scientist. Skilled in one art: killing."

"Then what was your mission?" I asked.

"_Rrrh_. Among my people there were . . . _avatars_ of many traits. Bravery, strength, cunning. A single exemplar for each. We hoped to preserve as many as possible, conceal them from the Reapers. Prepare them to rebuild our Empire once the darkness had passed."

"Which avatar were you?" asked Shepard.

"What I was no longer matters. Now I am the embodiment of _Vengeance_. The anger of a dead people, demanding blood be spilled for the blood we lost. Only when the last Reaper has been destroyed will my purpose be fulfilled." His hands balled into fists. "I no longer have any other reason to exist. Those who share my purpose become allies. Those who do not become casualties."

Shepard shook his head in rejection. "Nothing in our fight against the Reapers has been that cut-and-dried."

"That is because you still have hope that this war will end with your honor intact." The Prothean turned to stare at us, pleading for us to understand.

"I _know_ it will."

"Stand in the ashes of a trillion dead souls, and ask the _ghosts_ if honor matters!" He paused, his eyes burning with passion. "The silence is your answer."

Shepard said nothing, his expression thoughtful.

I turned to a side table, where a small Prothean artifact hovered in its own mass-effect field. I recognized it somewhat. It had the look of a small data-storage device. "You were very concerned to recover this from your life pod. What is it?"

"It is a memory shard."

"Could it help us with the device?"

"No. It contains only pain." He stepped up to Shepard. "But I _will_ help you fight. And the last thing the Reapers hear before they die will be the last voice of the Protheans sending them to their grave!"

I glanced at Shepard, a quick unspoken exchange that told me he had no more concerns.

"If you don't mind, then I have a few more questions I'd like to ask."

Shepard smiled gently. "Here it comes."

"I've written many papers and studies on your species. I'm published in several journals that . . ."

"_Amusing,"_ said the Prothean, his voice thick with scorn. "The asari have finally mastered writing."

"I'm sorry?"

"Never mind." He leaned back against his computer console. "What do you wish to know?"

I stared at the alien, cool blue against furnace-hot yellow, and found myself shaking my head. "I apologize. I have no questions at the moment."

Shepard stared at me with disbelief. "Liara?"

"Shepard, he's still living the worst single day of his entire life. He's got to be physically sick and exhausted. Not to mention the shock of waking up and finding his entire _species_ thousands of years gone. My scientific curiosity can wait."

"_Rrrh,"_ said the Prothean, a growl I didn't care to interpret.

I turned to him, a determined expression on my face. "Of course, _you_ need to realize that I'm not simply a scientist. I'm also an intelligence officer, and you are the most important intelligence asset in the galaxy right now. There's no telling what small detail out of your memory might prove critical. So I _will_ be interviewing you, and at considerable length. Just not until you've had time to rest and recover."

"Good. _Good_." For the first time, I saw the Prothean wear a grim smile. "Commander, are you in the habit of listening to this asari?"

"Always," said Shepard.

"I am reassured." He glanced between the two of us and nodded to himself, as if confirming some private suspicion. "She is correct. I do need time to regain my strength. Once I have, I will fight for you. My rank is no longer relevant . . . but my name is _Javik_."

Shepard extended his hand. This time the Prothean took it. "Welcome aboard the _Normandy_, Javik."

Some intuition led me to say, "We'll be arriving at the Citadel shortly. Perhaps you would enjoy visiting there."

"The Citadel?" Javik had good control of his voice, but I could hear a note of wonder buried deep.

"Yes. _Athaksena_," I said in Prothean. "The Reapers tried to attack there three years ago, as they did in your cycle, but we stopped them. Now they invade using a different strategy, and the Citadel still stands. At least for the moment."

"Indeed." Javik nodded. "That is well thought of. I will gladly visit the Citadel when we arrive."

* * *

_**1430 Local Time, 23 April 2186, Presidium Docking Ring/Citadel**_

Shepard and I left _Normandy_ together, fast-walking down the boarding ramp and out into the passenger lounge.

"What are your plans, love?"

"I think I'm triple-booked," said Shepard. "I want to check in at Huerta Memorial and see how Ash is recovering. I need to talk to Miranda, so I'll have to go to the Spectre office for that – that's the only place I can get enough security on the call. Then Aria T'Loak, of all people, wants to talk to me. I may be out late."

"Hmm. I have some Broker business to attend to, for that matter. Not to mention that Javik will need a guide, if he wants to explore the Citadel."

"No rest for the wicked, and the righteous don't need any."

"I won't try to figure out which we are. Be careful, Shepard, and I'll see you this evening."

He brushed his lips across mine in a quick kiss, and then he hurried away.

"Commander Shepard! _Commander Shepard!"_

I stopped, watching a dark-haired female human in a skin-tight white dress as she tried in vain to get Shepard's attention. Smiling to myself, I stood at ease with my hands clasped behind my back, waiting for her to give up her quest.

"Damn it," the woman muttered. Only then did she turn to see me standing there.

"Diana Allers?"

She was quick on the uptake, at least. She nodded and approached me, a camera drone hovering at her shoulder. "You must be Dr. T'Soni."

"That's right. You will have to excuse the Commander. We may not be on the Citadel for very long, and at the moment his time is very crowded. I wanted to speak to you in any case."

"Then the invitation to embed on board the _Normandy_ . . ."

"Came from my desk, yes. I assume you are interested in the opportunity?"

"Are you kidding? I got an invite from the _Shasta_, but when your message came I dropped _everything_ else. The Savoir of the Citadel _and_ the Butcher of Bahak, back from the dead and reinstated as the first human Spectre? The only ship in the Alliance fleet that's managed by an unshackled AI? The biggest celebrity story to come along in fifty thousand years?" She paused and cocked her head at me. "Not to mention Matriarch Benezia's daughter. This is the chance of a lifetime."

"I quite understand. There are a few things on which we must agree first."

"Shoot."

"Ms. Allers, I've been very impressed by your work in the past. You appear to have a gift both for finding the critical story, and for reporting it honestly. These are rare in modern journalism. But if you are to embed upon the _Normandy_, you must understand your role."

"You need a propagandist."

_She's very quick_. "Yes."

"Don't worry, Doctor, I understand what's at stake here. Wars can be won or lost on the editing floor, and _this_ war really needs to be won. That's another reason why I want to embed with your crew. It's clear you'll be in the middle of this war's most important events. Given past history, you'll be pulling off the kind of impossible victories that we have to win if we're going to survive. Which will give me exactly the stories that people back home most need to hear." She gave me a dazzling smile. "Long and short of it, with the _Normandy_ I expect I can be an honest reporter _and_ a propagandist at the same time. It's a dream job for anyone in my profession."

"I'm glad we understand one another. You will submit all your stories to both Commander Shepard and me for approval before you file them."

"Not a problem."

"You may interview members of the crew, but only if they are willing, and only when it doesn't interfere with their duties. If you have a dispute with anyone on board, you will refer it to the Commander for resolution, and you will accept his rulings."

Allers nodded. "I've embedded with military units before. I know the drill."

"Good. One more thing. You will not make any attempt to sleep with the Commander."

Her eyes widened slightly in surprise.

I gave her a cool smile. "Ms. Allers, you do a very good job concealing your habit of mixing pleasure with business. It's wise, since your credibility is at stake. Even so, I'm aware of the liaisons you have carried on with General Chen, with Secretary Randolph, and with Admiral Vestinus. Not to mention several others of less importance. You appear to have an appreciation for strong, competent military officers."

She was taken aback for only a moment. Then she nodded and smiled broadly in return. "Guilty as charged, Doctor."

"I imagine Commander Shepard would also be to your taste. The opportunity _will not arise_. Am I clear?"

"The Commander is emphatically spoken for. Got it. Anyone else on board you want to place off-limits?"

"So long as you don't disrupt military discipline, no."

"That won't be a problem. How soon can I report aboard ship, and how much gear can I bring?"

"Right away, and one footlocker."

"Thank you, Doctor."

That quickly, she was on her way to pack and move aboard. I shook my head in bemusement. At least if we had to have a journalist on board, she would be both competent and enthusiastic about her work.

* * *

_**1900 Local Time, 23 April 2186, Presidium Commons/Citadel**_

Once I had Diana Allers properly instructed, I spent several hours working with some of my informants on the Citadel, receiving their reports and issuing new tasking for them. Finally I was able to walk out onto the Presidium itself, looking for my favorite wine-bar. I looked forward to an hour or two of peace and quiet, just me and my datapads and some chilled _meliteia_.

At the top of the staircase leading down to the bar, I froze for just an instant.

Aethyta stood behind the bar, preparing a drink for a customer.

Fortunately I had caught her looking the other direction. She didn't see my instant of hesitation. For a moment I considered turning away, but then I set my jaw and continued down the stairs as if nothing at all concerned me.

_I might have known she would appear at some point._

I had first met Matriarch Aethyta about two and a half years before, when she took a job tending bar at the _Eternity_ lounge, close to my office on Illium. Over time, many of the T'Soni Analytics staff came to regard the Matriarch as a friend and confidante. Even I had become quite fond of her.

Until I discovered that she was my father.

It may seem strange that after years as an information dealer, after I had become the _Shadow Broker_, I could still nurse a sense of personal betrayal. I had fought to keep my own secrets, some of them far more significant than Aethyta's. I had lied, cheated, stolen, sacrificed the lives of people close to me, and even committed cold-blooded murder on more than one occasion. I could hardly reproach anyone else for something as simple as concealing a blood relationship. For all I knew, Aethyta was simply obeying Benezia's wishes on the matter.

The truth still burned. Once I learned the facts I stopped visiting _Eternity_, and I had not spoken a word to Aethyta since.

It didn't help that after I became the Shadow Broker, I discovered that she had more reason to observe me than simple parental curiosity. She had been _spying_ on me the entire time, on behalf of a coterie of Thessian Matriarchs. I suspected her principals might have even ordered her to assassinate me, if I managed to sufficiently frighten them.

So now I _was_ the Shadow Broker, and Councilor Tevos and the Matriarchs had to suspect something, and we were in the midst of the most terrible war in galactic history. _Of course_ the leaders of the asari people were going to be concerned about the most influential renegade maiden in a thousand years. So once more Aethyta was sent to take a position from which she could observe.

_To hell with the Matriarchs. To hell with Tevos. And to hell with you, father._

I walked over to my usual table, not even a glance to the side, and sat down as if I had not a care in the world. A waitress took my order, returning a few moments later with a glass of chilled _meliteia_.

It occurred to me that my honey-wine might be poisoned.

I drank from it anyway, not even bothering to scan it with my omni-tool first.

After two minutes passed with no symptoms in evidence, I picked up my datapad and began browsing through reports. The back of my neck itched, where I imagined Aethyta's eyes watching me.

For almost an hour I held up my end of the standoff, doing my best to control my twitchy nerves. I sipped my honey-wine, a second glass after the first was exhausted, and carried on with my work. After a while, I was even able to forget about my father's presence for whole minutes at a time.

Then a shadow fell across me. I looked up to see Shepard sliding into another chair at my table. He had an . . . _odd_ expression on his face.

"Hello, Shepard."

"Liara." His jaw worked, as if he was trying to chew the words to make them more palatable. "That bartender over there . . ."

My heart sank. _Oh Goddess. Here it comes._

"The Matriarch that the asari government hired to track my movements?" I took a sip of my wine. "What about her?"

Shepard blinked, clearly caught off-guard. _More_ off-guard than he already was. "She's your father."

"I know."

"I never get to surprise you with _anything_," he complained.

"Well. I'm a _very_ _good_ information broker." I sighed. "I came across the information several months ago, while I was investigating Morinth's activities on Illium. I had one of my technical experts break into the asari genetic archives, to see if I could discover Morinth's identity. While I was there, I took the opportunity to look at my own entry. My mother may have kept my father's identity a secret, but _everything_ is recorded in the archives if you know where to look."

"You haven't talked to her about spying on you?"

"If I did that, they might send someone who wasn't as sympathetic to me. Can you imagine a _justicar_ being sent to monitor someone they think is, at the very least, an agent of the Shadow Broker?" I shook my head, refusing to even glance over my shoulder in Aethyta's direction. "I'm walking a very fine line with Councilor Tevos and the Matriarchs as it is. I can't afford to lose control of the situation. Not with the war summit hanging in the balance. This isn't the time for family reunions."

"Liara . . ." Shepard gave me a very eloquent expression: _You're rationalizing, my love._

Suddenly I became aware of one of the drawbacks to bonding with someone as intelligent as Shepard. I couldn't dissemble to _him_, no matter how desperately I wanted to. I made an exasperated sound and rose from my chair. "Oh, _fine._"

His gaze followed me as I walked, stiff-backed with resentment and anger, up to the bar.

Aethyta glanced up, saw me approaching, and froze. I'm not certain what expression was on my face and in my eyes, but it must have been rather intimidating.

I stopped, leaned on the bar with both hands, and continued to stare at her. "Hello, Father."

She blinked, once, and I could see her mind working at high speed behind her sharp reddish-brown eyes. "So you figured it out. I wondered why you quit visiting _Eternity_ all of a sudden."

"Indeed. You can tell the Matriarchs that I've seen through their little game."

She stood upright, all grace and wiry strength, and a small part of my mind reminded me that she could be a very dangerous person indeed. "Don't think I'll do that. You don't want to scare the Matriarchs any more than they already are."

"So who's behind this? Thessala?"

"You know I can't talk about that. I'm sure you can figure it out on your own, if you need to." Aethyta snorted. "Besides . . . _Thessala?_ I wouldn't give _that_ idiot the time of day."

"I suppose not." _Damn it, she's charming me. I refuse to be charmed_. "So what _is_ going on, Father? Why _have_ you been spying on me all this time?"

"You can't blame the Matriarchs for keeping an eye on you. Look at what your mother did. Then you go off and become some hot-shot information broker, in thick with pirates and mercs and Goddess knows what else out in the Terminus. You deal with the _Shadow Broker_, of all people, and it starts looking as if you've got him in your hip pocket instead of the other way around. Then there's the bondmate. Who used to work for Cerberus . . ."

"All right. I might understand it, if I had ever _even once_ gone against the interests of our people. But I haven't. I've spent the last three years doing everything I can to fight for our survival. I am _not_ my mother."

"Liara." She watched me, calm and very determined. "I know that. Every report I've sent back has said the same thing."

"Then why are you still hovering over me?"

"Don't think of me as a spy. Think of me as a guardian spirit."

I snorted in derision. "Really?"

"Really. I watch over you. I make sure the Matriarchs know that you're no threat. As long as I'm here, they stay out of your business."

"It's true that they haven't interfered as much as I might have expected."

"You're welcome."

I sighed. "All right, Father. But there's still the other item on the list."

"Yeah. _Why didn't I ever tell you who I was?"_

"Yes." I gave her my best blue-eyed innocent stare, and waited.

All at once she dropped her gaze. If it was possible for a thousand-year-old Matriarch to look _ashamed_, Aethyta managed it.

"Hell, kid. Nezzie made that decision before you were even born. I've had more than a century to get used to the idea that I wasn't going to be part of your life. Didn't like it, but there it was. I thought maybe she would say something to you, when she thought it was the right time, but I guess she never did. Then she got mixed up with that Saren bastard, and then she got killed, and it was too late. I thought about coming to talk to you . . . but you had your own problems. Last thing you needed was your dad showing up to complicate things."

I looked down at the bar's smooth surface, not certain what I was feeling. "I always wondered if you were ashamed of my mother. Ashamed of me."

"Is _that_ what you thought?" Aethyta made a disgusted noise in the back of her throat. "_Damn_. No, that had nothing to do with it. I don't give a shit about all that _pureblood_ nonsense. If anything I thought you might be ashamed of _me_."

I looked up and frowned at her.

"I'm not like Nezzie. I'm a rough-and-tumble brawler who got her education in the school of adversity, not a high-flown aristocrat like her. Not near as smart as she was, certainly not near as smart as _you_ are. The one time I ever tried to do the _wise counselor_ thing, they laughed the blue off my ass. Figured I would never be more than a weight around your ankles."

I held her gaze and saw nothing but sincerity.

"Kid . . . Liara . . . the things you've been doing? Every day for over three years now, I've been waking up thanking the Goddess I got to see it, even if you never knew who I was. I've had other kids, they're all good asari and they've done well for themselves, but _you_ . . ."

I searched my heart. Somehow I couldn't find any lingering anger, unless it was at the circumstances that had kept us apart for so many years. Slowly, almost without willing it, I reached out to lay my hand over hers. "Thanks . . . Father."

She smiled, like a sudden sunrise. "Any time, kid."

"So." I took a deep breath. "Can we start over?"

"You bet. Here, let me get you another drink. _Meliteia_, wasn't it?"

I nodded and watched as she produced the chilled bottle and a fresh glass, pouring the amber honey-wine with a flourish. She checked to make sure the other bartender could cover the early evening traffic, and then poured a glass for herself.

"So . . . yeah," she said slyly, watching me over her glass. _"My_ dad was a krogan."

"Yes, I'm aware of that."

"So that makes you a quarter krogan."

I shook my head in bemusement. "That's not how it works."

"Hmm. I'm a thousand years old. I've had kids with hanar. Don't tell _me_ how asari reproduction works."

"I will concede that you have a lot more practical experience than I do." I had to freeze in mid-sip. "Wait. I have half-sisters who are part _hanar?"_

"I thought that wasn't how it worked," she teased.

"That's very unusual."

"You should meet them. They both live back on Thessia, nice matrons, kids of their own. Charis is a civil engineer, Lystria's a musician. Sweet-tempered girls, both of them. Goddess knows they must have gotten that from their father. They certainly didn't get it from me."

"I'll admit, all these years of not knowing who my father was, I often wondered what traits I might have acquired from her. From you."

Aethyta chuckled. "Yeah, well, you're definitely Nezzie's kid. That T'Soni blood always seems to rise to the top. But if you ever feel the urge to head-butt something, all I'm saying is, it's genetic."

I scoffed. "I have never wanted to _head-butt _ anything."

"Really? Not even a _little_ bit? Come on!"

"I do_ not_ head-butt people!"

"All right, _fine _. . . don't go all _blood-rage_ on me."

I growled in exasperation.

She grinned, her point proven.

I set my wine-glass down and leaned a little closer, setting up a small, intimate space between us. "I admit to a great deal of curiosity. What was it like, being with Benezia?"

"Some of the best years of my life, kid."

"Really?"

"Oh yes. Strange, how different we were, and yet we got along great for a long time. We were together for more than a century."

"You loved her?" I asked gently.

"Of _course_ I loved her. She was so smart. Always thinking. Nice, too. Hell of a lot nicer than I am." Aethyta gave me a wicked smile. "And _damn, _that _rack_. I mean, even before she hit the Matriarch stage . . ." She whistled in appreciation.

"You don't need to tell me _everything_."

"Yeah, yeah, nobody ever wants to hear about her _parents_ getting it on. Let's just say we were really, _really_ compatible. Like you and that human of yours, from what I hear."

"Don't go there, Father. I am _not_ telling you about my relationship with Shepard."

"Aww. Not even a few juicy details?"

"You'll have to ask him."

"Maybe I will. I've had a couple nice chats with him already." She took a deep sip of her wine and smiled reflectively. "It wasn't just the sex, though that _was_ real good. Nezzie always took me seriously, even when none of the other Matriarchs would. She was the only one who ever listened to me, when I said the asari were stuck in the past. Only difference was, I wanted us to start standing on our own. She wanted tighter alliances with the other species. After a while we were like two draft beasts pulling in opposite directions."

"Is that why . . ."

"Why it ended? Nah." Then she looked down, shadows in her eyes. "Well, maybe. I don't know. I think mostly it ended because she wanted to solve things the _smart_ way, and I wanted to fight."

"Those aren't mutually exclusive."

"Yeah. I hear _you've_ racked up quite a body count. But then, you _are_ a quarter krogan . . ."

I groaned. "Now you're doing it on purpose."

"It was too bad, though. After a while we just didn't see eye to eye. I still loved her, she still loved me, but we couldn't be _partners_ anymore. Besides, the more important and influential she became, that started coming between us too."

"Her role as a Matriarch?"

"Yeah. Like I said, I never had any following worth the name, but _she_ started picking up acolytes by the shipload. After a while she had to choose between our bond and her political work." She made a deep sigh. "It was pretty clear she was leaving. Can't be the _wise counselor_ when you're bonded."

I shook my head in disbelief. "Why not?"

"Sex appeal. Younger asari, most of the other species? They'll only _really_ pay attention if they want to have sex with you but they're not sure if they'll ever get the chance. So you have to be available, but at the same time mysterious . . ."

"What? That's not true. Shepard listens to me!"

"Yeah? And just how many times have you popped _his_ heat sink?"

I rolled my eyes in disgust. "Do you have to make it sound so tawdry?"

"Hey, if it's all civilized, you're not doing it right."

Involuntarily I had a very vivid memory: one particular night during which Shepard had been . . . _quite_ the barbarian. I felt my face color. Aethyta saw that, and gave me a nod and an evil smile.

"So that was just before I was born?"

"Yeah." She scowled for a moment, obviously recalling some old anger. "Shocked the hell out of me when I heard she was pregnant. She was too old, for one thing, and she hadn't talked to me about it at all. She must have somehow opened the Gate of the Goddess one of those last few times we were together, and there you were, on the way. After all those centuries never having kids of her own. Strangest damn thing."

"Perhaps she wanted something to remember you by, even if you weren't bonded anymore."

"Maybe. I don't know. We did talk a few times after that, even after you were born, but mostly we just fought. Finally I agreed to stay away, let her raise you without any help from me. You must have been five or six years old then. I made her promise to let you go your own way, though. No matter what she wanted."

"Really?"

Her voice dropped, lost its rough edge. "I knew you'd be special, kid. Any daughter of hers. I told her: _You're treating her like a baby bird, Nezzie, but she's going to raise one hell of a storm with those little wings._"

It was like a blow to the heart. I gasped to get enough air. "Little Wing?"

"Hey, you okay?"

"Yes. Thanks."

She patted my free hand. "Better to remember her like this, instead of as whatever she turned into with that Saren bastard."

"Father, you shouldn't blame her for what happened. It wasn't her fault. She was trying to stop Saren, guide him as a force for good. But she was indoctrinated."

"Look, I heard stories about the Reapers messing with your head . . ."

"They're more than stories. I've seen it. Every Cerberus soldier is a Reaper slave. Benezia fought it with every fiber of her being. She even broke free, and helped us on Noveria before she died." I looked away, wiping at the tears that threatened to well up in my eyes. "I was there. She said . . . she said I'd made her proud."

Aethyta leaned back, staring at me. "All this time I blamed Nezzie for it. Thousand years old and I _still_ don't know crap. Thanks for telling me."

A familiar sense of presence at my elbow: Shepard, stepping up to stand beside me at the bar. "Everything going okay here?"

I took his hand and squeezed it gently. Aethyta saw that and smiled, nodding her head. "Yeah, Shepard, thanks for pushing the two of us to talk. It was good."

"I wish I could give you more time together," he said. "I just got a call from _dalatrass_ Linron. She's willing to meet with us and the Primarch, even if Wrex is there too. That's an opportunity we can't afford to pass by."

"Of course, Shepard." I looked at Aethyta, thinking _this is my father_ once more in the back of my mind, wondering how I was going to adjust to having a family relationship with her. I felt confused, uncertain . . . but on the whole, I decided it was going to be a good thing. "I'm sorry I was angry at you. Let's stay in touch, if you think we can do that without frightening half of the Matriarchs on Thessia."

"You let me worry about that, kid. I think I can spin it so they'll stay off your back. Besides, you and your bondmate here are going to be running into a lot more dangerous situations than that."

"Probably true." I leaned across the bar to embrace her, for just a moment. "Goodbye for now."

"Take care of yourself out there, okay, kid?"

"I will . . . Dad."

"Hey." She cleared her throat, fighting to keep her voice steady. "I've called a few friends. Commandos. Eclipse girls who aren't under that crazy Jona Sederis's thumb. They owe me some favors. They're all yours. Just tell them where to go."

I blinked in surprise. "You're giving me . . . asari commandos?"

"Well, you're too old for me to buy you a damn _pony_. Besides, if you're going to be a mover and shaker, you need more than just _one_ acolyte. These girls are already impressed with you. They'll swear the oath if you let them."

"Goddess, as if having one acolyte wasn't enough to scandalize the Matriarchs."

"Kid, I'll give you a little secret. The Matriarchs are _always_ scandalized about _something_. At least you're doing it by getting out there and accomplishing important things. In the long run, that's all that matters."

"Exactly what I've been trying to tell her for a while now," Shepard grumbled.

"I can see I'm outnumbered." I gave Aethyta a happy smile, and realized that I meant it. "You're the best father a girl could wish for."


	14. Alliances

_**1100 Shipboard Time (SSV Normandy), 24 April 2186, Pranas System Space**_

Less than an hour before our rendezvous with the diplomatic ships, Shepard and I retired to my office to prepare. Glyph set up all the documents we might need. Anticipating Urdnot Wrex didn't seem likely to pose a problem, since we both knew the scarred old krogan quite well. Primarch Victus also promised few surprises, since Shepard and I already consulted with him at length. _Dalatrass_ Linron, on the other hand . . .

"I don't know much about salarian politics," Shepard admitted, standing behind me to watch the data on my console.

"Few outsiders do." I struggled for a moment with my memory. "I seem to recall there is a word in your language that would be appropriate. It suggests great complexity, sophistication, stealth, and deviousness. I believe it is derived from the name of one of your historical cultures . . ."

"Ah," said Shepard. _"Byzantine."_

"That's it." I peered up at him. "I don't know the details, but I can guess what these _Byzantines_ were like, given the connotations of the word. Now expand those features by an order of magnitude, and you may have some idea of salarian internal politics."

"More complex than _asari_ politics?" he asked, amused.

"Considerably so. My people are not without skill at deception and manipulation, but the _issues_ in our politics tend to be relatively simple, and most Matriarchs are comfortable permitting their schemes to play out over long periods of time. Salarian _dalatrass_ think quickly, scheme quickly, act quickly . . . and their politics are _personal_ to a much greater degree. They seek out every possible advantage for their own bloodlines."

"So tell me about Linron."

I worked with my console, calling up an image and a waterfall of biographical data. "By most measures, Linron is the third most powerful _dalatrass_ in the Salarian Union. She holds suzerainty over about one-quarter of the salarian homeworld. Her direct and indirect subjects number nearly three billion."

"You make her sound like some sort of queen," said Shepard.

"In a way, she is. Salarian society is organized along feudal lines. Each _dalatrass_ holds specific territories for her bloodline, usually as a fiefdom from a more senior _dalatrass_. Linron is at the top of her personal hierarchy, recognizing no other individual as her superior. Indeed, she is the _most_ powerful _dalatrass_ of the homeworld, holding the planetary capital at Talat."

"So the most powerful aristocrat on Sur'Kesh only owns a fraction of the planet's surface area and population." Shepard's eyes darkened as he scanned Linron's biography, thinking hard. "She must have rivals."

"Yes. My most recent assessment identifies five other _dalatrass_ that are both hostile to Linron and powerful enough to compete on her level. Narra of Mannovai is probably the most influential."

"So if Linron won't play ball . . ."

I shook my head. "I don't think it would be that easy. Narra and Esheel have more territory and wealth, but they are based in the salarian colonies and don't have Linron's central position. Valern and Sendar are based on Sur'Kesh, and Valern of course has her connection to the salarian Councilor, but neither of them matches Linron's wealth and influence."

Shepard nodded. "We _could_ try to talk to all of them and put together an anti-Linron alliance, but even moving at the speed of salarians that would take time. Weeks, maybe months, and all the while the Reapers are devouring Earth and Palaven."

"I doubt that any of the top-tier _dalatrass_ would be interested in an alliance involving the krogan." I sighed in disgust. "I'm sorry, Shepard, but I don't think we can count on salarian support in this war. At least not until the Reapers pose a more immediate threat to salarian worlds."

"And yet Linron agreed to meet with us," Shepard mused. "I wonder what she's up to."

"I've queried my informants in her territory. So far I've heard nothing to indicate what she may be thinking."

Shepard rubbed at the stubble on his chin, staring at the image if Linron as if trying to read her mind. After a moment, he nodded slowly to himself.

"Victus," he said.

I frowned at him. "I don't follow."

"She's not here to talk to me, and she's certainly not here to talk to Wrex. The asari didn't send an official representative at all. Does she know you're the Shadow Broker?"

"I don't think so. Salarians are good at espionage, but I haven't seen any indication that the STG has penetrated that deeply into my network."

"Then the only person at that table she's likely to respect is the Primarch. She's heard that Victus was the one to suggest an alliance with the krogan, and she's not happy about it. She's here to try to keep the turians in line with the old Citadel power structure. The one that keeps asari, salarians, and turians in charge, humans barely tolerated, and krogan all the way out."

I nodded, impressed. "That's a very good guess, Shepard. I wouldn't be surprised in the least."

Just then we heard Samantha Traynor's voice, from her post in the CIC. _"Commander, the salarian __**dalatrass**__ and the krogan clan chief are ready to come aboard."_

"Thank you, Traynor. Have them escorted to the conference room." Shepard turned to me as I rose from my desk. "Showtime. Are you ready?"

"No, but that's never made a difference before."

"Hah!" With me at his side, he strode out the door, heading for the lifts. "Let's just hope this doesn't start another war."

* * *

_**1200 Shipboard Time (SSV Normandy), 24 April 2186, Pranas System Space**_

"I am Commander William Shepard, Alliance Navy, in command of the _SSV Normandy_. I also have the honor of being a Council Spectre. I'd like to welcome all of you to this conference. I hope we can find a way to work together against the enemy that threatens all of our worlds."

Five of us stood around the _Normandy_'s conference table. To Shepard's left, Urdnot Wrex took up an entire long side of the table with his sheer physical presence, unarmed for the moment but massive in his crimson battle armor. Primarch Victus stood at the far end of the table, looking tiny compared to the massive krogan, but watching all of us with fierce attention. _Dalatrass_ Linron stood alone to Shepard's right, a bulky female salarian in full ceremonial robes, her body language carefully controlled but whispering of anger and mistrust.

I stood in the shadows behind Shepard and to his left, where I could observe everything and say nothing.

"Yeah, Shepard, that would be nice." Wrex paced slightly on his side of the table, his deep voice even more thunderous than usual. "A little naïve, though. Especially with these two."

"You see, Primarch?" Linron deliberately ignored Wrex, turning to speak to the turian as if none of the rest of us were present. "The krogan has no sense for the ebb and flow of negotiation. I am forced to question your judgment. Why should the turians turn away from their age-old alliance with asari and salarians, in favor of these brutes and upstarts?"

I nodded to myself. _Shepard's hypothesis seems confirmed._

Victus shook his head, but his voice remained smooth and calm. "With all due respect, _dalatrass_, the asari and salarians have thus far not lifted a finger to aid the Turian Hierarchy. The humans have already done more, and they have proven willing to approach the krogan at my request. Against this threat, I will seek alliances where I can find them."

"Well, you'll get no alliance from Clan Urdnot," snarled Wrex. "Not unless I can get something from it for _my_ people."

"The krogan is in no position to make demands!" hissed Linron.

"_The krogan_ has a name: Urdnot Wrex. And I think the fact I'm here says I _am_ in a position to make demands." Wrex grinned at the Primarch, a rather frightening expression. "Guess the turians think they need us now. Too bad they made sure there aren't enough of us around to be much use."

Victus leaned on the table to stare at the krogan. "Wrex, the genophage was over a thousand years ago. I'm not the one responsible for it."

"And I'm not just some junkyard varren you can unleash whenever you're in trouble!"

I glanced at Wrex, reading his body language, and smiled to myself. I could clearly see him putting on a show of being the _angry krogan_, but his posture and kinesics said otherwise. He was _using_ his image as an unsophisticated barbarian.

_Now, how well can Linron and Victus see that?_

"I've got my own problems," Wrex continued, moderating his voice. "Reaper scouts have arrived on Tuchanka. So why should I care if a few turians go extinct?"

Victus shook his head, and I thought I saw a gleam of understanding in his eyes. "Trying to draw out negotiations will get you nowhere, Wrex. I have no time for it. Just tell us what you want."

"I'll tell you what I _need."_ Wrex looked around the table, drawing out his moment. _"A cure for the genophage."_

That bombshell had all the effect Wrex could have wished for. Shepard and I took it in stride, since we already knew just how much progress had already been made toward formulating a genophage cure. Victus leaned back slightly, his eyes wide, as he realized just what cost he might have to pay for the alliance he wanted.

Linron, of course, recoiled from the table in disgust. "Absolutely not! The genophage is non-negotiable."

"Why are you so opposed to the idea, _dalatrass?"_ asked Shepard.

"Because my people uplifted the krogan," she replied, putting all her authority in her voice. "We know them best."

Wrex loomed across the table, making big gestures as he shouted. "You mean you _used_ us! To fight a war you couldn't win! It wasn't the salarians, or the asari, or even the turians who stopped the rachni. It was _krogan_ blood that turned the tide."

"And after that, you ceased to be useful!" snapped Linron. "The genophage was the only way to keep your _urges_ in check."

For a moment, I felt _very_ thankful that Wrex had no weapons and stood on the wrong side of the table. Certainly he appeared ready to commit murder and enjoy a nice meal of salarian liver afterward, and I could be quite certain that wasn't an act. But then I saw a fleeting glance to his left, to see what effect the byplay had on Primarch Victus.

_Linron, you may be frightfully intelligent, you may rule three billion salarians, but you have less than four decades of experience. Wrex is nearly two thousand years old and has been watching galactic politics that entire time. He's managed to almost completely reunify Tuchanka in less than three years. And he is playing you for a fool._

Centuries later, I still marvel that I was present, at that moment when history decisively turned on its hinge.

It began when Victus turned to the salarian, his body language suggesting an unconscious but entirely sincere rush to the krogan's defense. _"Dalatrass,_ you may not like him, but Wrex is right. Insulting him won't change that."

"I won't apologize for speaking the truth!" Linron glared hatred and contempt at Wrex. "We uplifted the krogan to do one thing: wage war. It's all they know, because it's all we _wanted_ them to know."

_No, it's all you believe them capable of because it's all you were concerned about at the time._

Shepard had been silent, playing the part of the polite host and letting the heads of state work through their dispute. Now he piled on. "Your people should have thought the matter through, then. Was it really a surprise that the krogan rebelled?"

"That's precisely my point, Commander. We made a rash decision. We turned to the krogan in desperation. It's the same mistake you're about to make today. No good can come from curing the genophage."

Shepard glanced down the table and caught the Primarch's eye. The turian made a microscopic nod.

"The krogan have paid for their mistakes," Shepard said, all his natural concern for justice ringing in his voice. "The genophage has gone on long enough."

Wrex grunted. "One thousand, four hundred and seventy-six years. If you're keeping track."

"It was a thousand years of peace," said Linron. "Free from these _brutes_."

"Enough!" retorted the Primarch. "Whether or not the krogan deserve a cure is moot. It would take years to formulate one."

"My information says otherwise," said Wrex, with the air of someone ready to drop yet another bombshell in our midst. He stalked up to the controls at the Primarch's end of the table, and worked with his omni-tool for a moment. He called up imagery on the display screen: a dark space, hard to make out, the viewpoint scuttling along as if someone rushed about with a hand-held camera. "A little over a year ago, a salarian scientist named _Maelon_ grew a conscience. He came to Tuchanka to test a genophage cure on our females."

Shepard glanced over his shoulder, and our eyes met for an instant. "I remember. His methods were barbaric."

"What you didn't know is that a few females _survived_ his experiments." The imagery on the screen became clearer. We could all see salarians, using scientific instruments, working at computer consoles. Then a row of isolation chambers, each one containing a single bulky figure. Krogan females: almost never seen by outsiders, _never_ seen off Tuchanka. "So the _dalatrass_ here sent in a team to clean up the whole mess, and to take those survivors prisoner."

Linron recoiled, losing control of her posture and her voice for a moment. "Where did you get this? It . . . it could be a fabrication!"

"Don't insult me," shouted Wrex. "Those are my people! They're immune to the genophage, and you're going to give them back!"

"_Dalatrass,_ is this true?" demanded Victus.

Linron folded her arms, casting aside any pretense at deception. "How will curing the genophage benefit _my_ people?"

Shepard growled, "How long do you think you'll last, alone against the Reapers? Because if you don't help, that's how it will end up."

"And I'll be the last friendly turian you ever see." Positively _arctic,_ the Primarch's voice.

Linron looked around at the rest of us, suddenly aware that the whole edifice of her alliance was about to crumble. She even glanced at me where I stood in the shadows, and got no help at all.

"What's it going to be?" Shepard demanded.

"The females are being kept at one of our STG bases on Sur'Kesh," said the _dalatrass_ in surrender. "But I warn you, Commander, the consequences of this . . ."

Shepard interrupted the sovereign ruler of three billion people. "Will be _nothing_ compared to what happens if the Reapers win."

"Let's get the females!" crowed Wrex.

Linron shook her head. "You're not setting foot on Sur'Kesh! This will take time to . . ."

"It happens _now,"_ snapped Victus. "As a Council Spectre, Shepard can oversee the exchange."

"We're going," said Shepard flatly. He turned and stalked out of the conference room, the rest of us in his train, Linron abandoned to stand alone in our wake.

"I won't forget this, Commander! A bully has few friends when he needs them most."

_Well_, I thought. _You would certainly know about that, wouldn't you?_

* * *

_**0600 Local Time, 24 April 2186, Special Task Group Base Terevai/Sur'Kesh**_

Shepard didn't expect or want a fight. He brought along a minimal team: Wrex for the krogan, Garrus to represent the Primarch, and me.

Once we were in the shuttle and on our way, Shepard tried to mollify Wrex. "This is the salarian homeworld we're headed to. They aren't used to seeing krogan here, so let's keep this simple. We land, get the females, and leave before anyone changes their mind."

"I still don't trust a word they say," Wrex rumbled.

"I can't say I blame you. Let diplomacy play out, Wrex. You'll get what you want."

"These females are the best, and probably the _last_ hope for my people."

I stepped in. "We'll bring them back, Wrex, don't worry."

"I appreciate that, Liara." He gave me something I would have thought almost impossible: a warm smile. "I wouldn't want anyone else along for the ride."

I reached out and patted the old krogan's shoulder. _We've come a long way since I met you, and thought you nothing but a frightening barbarian._

Garrus cleared his throat pointedly.

"I suppose I can make room for you too, Garrus." Wrex chuckled, a deep rumble.

"Figured you'd gone soft sitting on your throne, forgot how to hold a gun."

"That will be the day."

Cortez called from the cockpit. "Commander, I have the STG base on sensors."

"Set her down."

Moments passed. The shuttle descended toward the STG installation, heading for a wide terrace on its southern edge. Wrex and Garrus compulsively checked their weapons, for the dozenth time since we left _Normandy_. I exchanged a look with Shepard, each of us aware of the other's tension.

_There's too much that can still go wrong_.

Almost on cue, Cortez spoke up once more. "Commander, salarian ground control says we don't have clearance to land."

Shepard stepped over to the cockpit. "Tell them the _dalatrass_ authorized this herself."

"I _knew_ they'd never keep their word." Wrex strode across the passenger compartment, reaching for the hatch controls. "Let's see them try to stop a krogan airdrop!"

"Wrex!"

The krogan slammed the hatch open and, with a roar, leaped down almost four meters to the terrace below. At once, two armed salarians swarmed up onto the terrace to block his passage.

"We have an unauthorized landing!" one soldier called into his helmet radio.

"Yeah? And who authorized _you_ to hold my entire race hostage?" Wrex gestured, creating a blue flare of biotic force to knock the salarians off their feet. He drew his shotgun, clearly prepared to fight his way into the facility if need be.

Then he looked up . . . into a _flurry_ of targeting lasers.

Snipers, on an upper terrace, a whole squad of them ready to fire.

_Oh Goddess, now it begins._

Shepard jumped down to follow Wrex. Garrus and I followed. More salarians arrived. The terrace began to feel very crowded.

"Stand down! Hold your fire!" shouted another voice, a salarian in a _tearing_ hurry.

By some miracle, the voice was obeyed.

"Commander Shepard, restrain your colleague!" shouted the new salarian as he arrived on the terrace, armored all in black unlike most of his teammates, clearly a senior STG operative.

I did a double-take.

"Captain Kirrahe!" exclaimed Shepard, stepping forward to greet the newcomer.

The salarian shook Shepard's hand, smiling broadly. "I'm pleased to see you as well, Commander. Dr. T'Soni. _Propraetor_ Vakarian. Although it's _Major_ now."

"It's been a long way from Virmire."

"Yes. For all of us. Although I suspected even then that we would see each other again one day. In any case, I must apologize. We only found out about this transfer a few moments ago."

Shepard nodded, projecting calm. "I'd like to avoid a diplomatic incident."

"As would we . . ."

"But you have something valuable to Wrex."

"Something worth dying for," said the krogan. "To say nothing of it being worth _killing_ for." He eyed Kirrahe with no evidence of warmth. I remembered that the STG officer had snubbed Wrex rather badly on Virmire.

"Please understand," said Kirrahe, still addressing Shepard instead of Wrex. "No matter what some politician might say, we still consider krogan a hostile race."

"I wonder why," rumbled Wrex.

"I'm sure these matters can be resolved, but we must insist that the krogan remain under guard."

Wrex growled.

Shepard hastily turned to him, making a calming gesture. "I can handle this, Wrex."

The krogan watched Shepard for a moment, clearly considering whether to trust him. Then he stood down, replacing his shotgun on its attachment point. "All right . . . but anything _else_ goes wrong, and all bets are off."

Shepard, Garrus, and I moved to follow the black-armored salarian. I glanced over my shoulder and saw Wrex engaging in a dominance game with three salarian soldiers. Fortunately none of them had drawn firearms.

"I appreciate your understanding, Commander," said Kirrahe. "With war on everyone's mind, our people are on edge."

_Boom_. Just ahead, a massive creature hurled itself against the wall of a containment unit.

"Careful! Watch the containment field!" shouted one of the salarian operators.

"Is that . . ." breathed Garrus.

"Yes, it's a yahg." I sighed. "I had hoped to never see one of _those_ again."

"You and me both."

"As you can see, this base contains sensitive information," said Kirrahe.

I made a mental note. If the salarians were considering uplifting the _yahg_ . . . _Who are the most likely targets? Do the salarians really understand how dangerous those creatures are?_ _Do they have any idea how to control the yahg once their objectives have been attained?_ The Shadow Broker – ironically – might be forced to take a hand to stop the scheme. Assuming any of us survived the Reapers.

"What kind of work goes on here?" asked Shepard, carefully paying no special attention to the yahg in its cage.

"Evolutionary trials. Morphological simulations, exogenetic assessments."

"Nothing is ever simple with salarians, is it?"

"Science has always been our best defense. The research we do here has kept Sur'Kesh safe for millennia."

"Does that include studying . . . _lost_ krogan?"

"Please understand, Commander. The females were in very poor health when we found them on Tuchanka. Had we left them to the mercy of krogan medicine, they would certainly all have died. They were brought here to stabilize their condition."

"I'd like to see them."

"Of course. I'll need to clear you for the lower levels. Wait here by the elevator, and give me a few moments to log my authorization in the system." Kirrahe leaned close. "And Commander . . . many of us in the STG don't care what the _dalatrass_ have to say. When the time comes, _we_ will help you retake Earth."

"You would do that?"

"Not everyone has been ignoring your warnings about the Reapers all this time." Kirrahe smiled once more. "Besides, we salarians owe a debt for Virmire, to you and Kaidan Alenko both. Don't be shy about collecting it."

Shepard nodded slowly, resting a comradely hand on Kirrahe's shoulder. Then the salarian left us to wait.

"That was interesting," I said quietly.

"I'll say. What do you think it means?" asked Garrus.

"The STG has always been rather independent of the salarian feudal power structure. It's entirely composed of males, not very interested in the schemes of the _dalatrass,_ committed instead to the survival of the species as a whole. Many of them are among the brightest of a very intelligent species."

"Among turians, you'd be describing something like a secret society."

"Turians have secret societies?" asked Shepard.

"Oh yes. Sometimes they're the bane of our civilization. Every major separatist movement starts out as a secret society of would-be rebels."

Shepard shook his head. "I just had a very strange mental image. A turian in a tuxedo, white gloves, and top hat, wearing a square-and-compasses emblem around his neck . . ."

I snorted, not quite able to suppress a laugh. Then again, when I saw Garrus's face.

"I'm glad Major Kirrahe had a chance to talk to us," said Shepard, changing the subject. "Suddenly I'm feeling better about getting _some_ kind of alliance with the salarians. Liara, would you look further into this once we get back to the ship?"

"Of course, Shepard. I'll issue some new tasking for the network as well. Carefully, of course. The STG are not to be engaged lightly in a game of espionage."

"Didn't you mention that the first Shadow Broker was a salarian _dalatrass?"_

"Which rather proves my point," I said, giving him a sharp-edged smile.

Just then Kirrahe returned, touching controls on his omni-tool and unlocking the elevator. "Commander, you and your associates have been cleared. Go ahead and step into the elevator – it will take you down to the laboratory levels where the krogan females are being held."

Suddenly alarms sounded, and salarians all around us snapped to attention.

"_Alert. Alert. Threat condition two has been declared. Scramble readiness teams."_

"What's happening?" Shepard demanded.

Kirrahe opened his omni-tool again and scanned status displays, too quickly for my eye to follow. "Sensors have picked up activity on the perimeter. Hurry, Commander. Someone will meet you below."

Shepard hesitated, looking back out to the terrace where we had come in. We all saw the salarians bustling about, obviously mustering to defend their facility. Gunships lifted off to soar out over the surrounding mountains. Soldiers formed up to receive orders and arm for battle. Off in the distance, we could see Wrex standing by the _Normandy_ shuttle, looking around, obviously hoping for a fight against _some_ enemy.

"Come on," Shepard said at last. "We'd better get this done and get out of here."

We waited for the elevator to whisk us down what felt like several floors. Finally we emerged in a darkened sub-level . . . which I quickly realized looked familiar. This was the location we had seen in Wrex's covert footage.

Moments after we stepped out, a salarian hurried up to us. In the dim light it was hard to make out his features, but something about the shape of his face and head seemed familiar. Seamed skin of great age, salmon coloring fading to white around his mouth, one cranial horn half missing . . .

"Shepard! Excellent timing. Good to have you here."

"Mordin!" Shepard hurried to shake the salarian's hand.

"Eyesight still sharp. Surprise understandable. Hadn't expected to return to work."

I stepped forward to greet our old friend as well. "You're back with STG?"

"Special consultant. Had to be me. Someone else might have gotten it wrong." Mordin looked around furtively, verifying that no other salarians were within easy earshot. He leaned close. "Helped female krogan. Fed information to Clan Urdnot. Encouraged political pressure to free females."

"You must be Wrex's inside source," I deduced.

"Yes." Mordin set out across the floor, leading us deeper into the lab facility. "Can explain later. Security warnings _not normal._ Need to get off-world for sake of krogan. Females had weak immune systems. Side effects of Maelon's cure. Most didn't survive."

There, behind a security railing, a row of isolation chambers. Each of them was occupied by a huddled form, not moving, covered by a blanket.

"What about Maelon's research?" asked Shepard. "I thought we saved it."

"Indeed. Data saved, but not complete. Lacked sufficient details to reconstruct cure. Still useful for _synthesizing_ cure from living tissue. Couldn't save them."

"I'm sure you did everything you could, Mordin."

"Arrived too late." Mordin turned decisively, led us further down the row of cages. "_Cannot_ delay now. One survivor. Immune to genophage. Can synthesize cure from her tissue."

"She's still here?"

"Yes. Last hope for krogan. If she dies, genophage cure . . . problematic."

We reached the end of the row. There, in the last chamber, a krogan female still standing, propped up by some kind of prosthetic frame. She was swaddled in layers of robes, a great hood over her head, but her eyes were open and lively. Her head turned slightly to watch us as we gathered outside her cage.

"Please be careful," Mordin murmured. "Krogan slow to trust."

Shepard stepped as close to the security rail as he could. "I'm Commander Shepard, Alliance Navy."

A deep voice, yet smooth and feminine, heavy with fatigue and pain. "Are you here to kill me?"

Shepard stood silent, his eyes wide with shock.

I opened my omni-tool and scanned the krogan, finding evidence of terrible suffering. She may have survived her ordeal, but it had not been by much. "_Goddess_. What she's been through . . ."

"Urdnot Wrex and I are here to take you home," said Shepard, as gently as possible.

"Why? What am I to you?"

"Have the salarians been mistreating you?"

A note of asperity crept into the krogan's voice. "Those were my sisters you saw back there. They died in a lot of pain."

Mordin shook his head in shame. "Did the best we could."

"And now I know I'm the only one left." The krogan's eyes fixed on Shepard, glittering in the dim light. "That makes me dangerous to a lot of people. So answer my question, Commander Shepard. Why are you here? Why should you care about me?"

He set his jaw in determination, and met the krogan's gaze without flinching. "You're the future for the krogan species. I'm fighting for _that_."

_BOOM._ A distant explosion, muffled by the building's bulk. Alarms began to sound, red lights to flash.

Very calmly, the krogan said, "Then I hope you've brought an army."


	15. Gauntlet

_**0630 Local Time, 24 April 2186, Special Task Group Base Terevai/Sur'Kesh**_

Shepard's omni-tool chimed for attention. When he opened it, the face of an angry krogan warlord appeared.

"_Shepard! Cerberus is attacking the base. We need to get those females out now!"_

I exchanged a horrified glance with my bondmate.

_Cerberus? Attacking an STG facility on the salarian homeworld? Either they are very desperate . . . or they know something the salarians don't._

Shepard shook his head. "Only one of them survived, Wrex. This place is built like a fortress. Maybe she would be safer down here."

"_What? So the salarians can kill her too? No deal! You want this alliance, you get her out of here."_

"Understood." Shepard turned to Mordin. "Looks like we need to move. Can you transfer her back up to the loading area so we can take her off in our shuttle?"

"We're in security lockdown," objected another salarian. "We can't clear any of the specimens for release . . ."

Suddenly the salarian convulsed, arcs of corona discharge skittering across his body.

"Objection noted," said Mordin, deactivating his omni-tool. _"Now release krogan."_

The salarian meekly worked with his console. The isolation pod containing the female krogan began to move into the embrace of a bulky machine, a cargo elevator that led back to the upper levels of the facility.

"Must accompany krogan through release protocols," said Mordin, rushing to climb into the elevator's open cage. "Will not be able to cycle through checkpoints alone. Spectre authorization codes will clear each checkpoint. Hurry!"

"Got it. Double-time, people, let's get back to the elevator."

We hurried, dodging frantic salarians the whole way. The elevator doors opened before us . . .

"Oh _crap,"_ shouted Garrus. _"Bomb!"_

All of us dove for the floor, just as the elevator erupted in chaos and flames.

As I picked myself up and checked for injuries, I reviewed the flash-image I had retained from the moment the elevator doors opened. An explosive device, clearly of human manufacture.

_Cerberus indeed_. I felt a surge of bitterly cold anger. _The Illusive Man would naturally oppose any cure for the genophage. His troops are here to commit genocide against the krogan._

_He will not succeed._

I heard Shepard's voice. "Is there another way up from here?"

"Yes, Commander." A salarian voice, rapid and high-pitched with stress. "At the other end of this concourse, an emergency exit."

"Everyone all right?"

Garrus nodded, checking his Mantis. I quickly took stock and exchanged a glance and a nod with Shepard.

"Then _let's move._"

We found the emergency exit, a tall ladder. Shepard led us, Garrus right behind while I brought up the rear.

We emerged onto the first open level, only to find chaos loose on the world. We passed a fire-team of salarians, hammering at some unseen target with their rifles. From all sides I could hear gunfire and explosions. Two gunships engaged in a missile duel, silhouetted against the distant sky. I followed Shepard . . .

Onto a terrace containing more angry yahg than I ever wanted to see in my life.

Isolation pod after isolation pod against one wall. Each one contained a yahg, all of them roaring in rage and frustration, hurling themselves against the walls and containment fields. Quick as lightning but _very_ carefully, I checked to see that all the yahg were well-contained. Only then did my heart start beating normally once more.

A shadow across the sun. A Cerberus shuttle hovered by the edge of the terrace, soldiers leaping out under cover of a pair of smoke grenades.

I hurled a singularity into their midst, then switched to my Shuriken while Shepard and Garrus opened fire. The Cerberus troopers weren't ready for that kind of resistance. We were able to advance across the terrace, heading for the elevator at its far end.

One by one, the yahg stopped to watch us as we passed. I shivered under that many-eyed regard.

Another Cerberus shuttle. More smoke and gunfire.

I crouched beside a computer console for a moment's cover, trying not to look at the yahg staring intently at me from two meters away. Then a thought struck me.

"Shepard. Hold this position for a moment." I opened my omni-tool, established a connection with the console.

"A moment is all we have," he growled.

I tapped furiously at my omni-tool. No luck, but I saw a way to punch through the STG defenses. "That's all I need, if you'll give me your Spectre codes for a moment."

Shepard raised no more objection, opening his own omni-tool and sending the codes.

_There._ Several gigabytes of data began to cross the wireless connection. "That's got it. Let's go!"

"Do I want to know what that's about?" he asked, as he emerged from cover and began to charge down on the remaining Cerberus troops, his shotgun blazing.

"It may be nothing." I followed him, hurling a flurry of biotic warps into the Cerberus line. The data that would change galactic history continued to download into my personal storage.

We turned a corner, came face to face with another Cerberus fire-team . . . and then my heart threatened to stop again. A single yahg crashed through the wall of its isolation pod into their midst. Heavily armed and armored as they were, the creature still needed mere seconds to tear them to shreds. Fortunately it seemed to take no notice of us, or else it considered us unimportant. Within moments, it vaulted over the railing and vanished into the dense forest beyond.

"Careful," said Shepard dryly. "There goes the next Shadow Broker."

"Could have sworn it was growling _T'Soni! _the whole time," quipped Garrus.

"Not funny!"

We moved on, climbing a flight of stairs onto the next level.

"_Hurry, Shepard! Cerberus attacking isolation pod!"_

Shepard turned a corner, blurred, vanished into a flash-charge across the terrace. Almost too quickly, since Garrus and I had not yet reached a position to support him. We rushed ahead, to find Shepard in the midst of a wild melee with no less than _five_ Cerberus troopers.

_Crash. Crash._ His shotgun barked twice, each time putting a trooper down in a welter of blood. Garrus made a snap-shot to take out a trooper about to flank Shepard. When my bondmate put still another off-balance, I used a vicious telekinetic push to shove the enemy off the edge of the terrace.

"How are you doing?" Shepard asked, as he rested his shotgun against his shoulder and tapped at the checkpoint controls one-handed.

"Pod slightly damaged," Mordin answered. "Will try to effect repairs. Female's vital signs holding, but not optimal."

"I'm fine, Commander," said the female krogan, just a hint of strain in her voice.

"Hang in there. Wrex is waiting at the top. We'll get you home safely."

"Why are you doing this, Commander? You don't know me."

Shepard raised his eyes to stare at the krogan's shadowy figure. "No, but I'd like to. Hang in there."

The pod rose toward the next level.

"Shepard! Look out!"

_SLAM_. A tremendous explosion, blowing in the outer wall of the terrace just where the isolation pod had been. A Cerberus shuttle hovered just beyond, troopers pouring fire in on us.

"Getting very tired of these people," muttered Garrus.

Shotgun, sniper rifle, blue-white biotic force, we dealt with the troopers. Then we found our way forward blocked, wreckage from the fighting filling up an access corridor. After a moment, Shepard chose to go _outside_, out through the gap Cerberus had blown in the wall, moving along a narrow parapet dense with greenery. A few meters of very careful progress, a jump across a small gap, and we could make for the far end of the terrace once more.

More Cerberus troops appeared, this time at a considerable distance. Garrus took the opportunity to show off a little, falling into _the zone_ and working his Mantis like a precision instrument. _Boom – boom – boom_ and I could see fountains of blood and gore in the distance, three perfect headshots in as many seconds. Shepard and I used our biotics to disrupt and destroy the rest, clearing the path.

"Damn. I miss my old Volkov," said Shepard as we moved.

"Yeah, I remember you used to be passable with a sniper rifle. Not up to the Vakarian standard, of course, but then I _am_ rather one of a kind . . ."

Shepard snorted. "These days I'm more of a wrecking ball."

"To each his own."

Up to the third level . . .

We saw a salarian, casually murdering a Cerberus trooper twice his mass in close-quarters combat.

"Major Kirrahe!" greeted Shepard.

"Greetings, Commander. I said I was looking forward to fighting with you again, but I didn't expect it to be within the hour." The STG operative frowned. "Very suspicious, for Cerberus to appear at exactly this juncture. How did they learn about the krogan?"

"A mole in the STG?" I suggested.

"Possibly. Could be indoctrinated. Might also explain how they got through planetary and perimeter defenses so easily."

All of us heard voices from around the next corner. Human, distorted by helmet comms. _Cerberus_.

Kirrahe produced an unusual weapon, a pistol, and whirled out around the corner. _Phut – phut – phut_. Three blue-glowing charges went flying down-range, striking and _adhering_ to Cerberus soldiers.

_Crack-crack-crack!_ The charges exploded, and three troopers went down in rapid succession.

"Go on, Commander!" shouted Kirrahe. "I'll cover you."

"Why do _I_ not have one of those?" muttered Garrus as we sprinted onto the next terrace.

Right into the middle of a Cerberus cross-fire.

This time they had combat engineers, ready with high-powered turret emplacements to block the terrace against our advance. The field rapidly became a hell of gunfire, enough to kill any of us almost instantly if we exposed ourselves.

"Take out the engineers!" Shepard ordered.

"Shouldn't we take out the turrets?" I gasped, in between brief attempts to fire my Shuriken in the right general direction.

"That would only give them time to set up more," Garrus explained, leaning out a few millimeters to give his Mantis a chance to fire. A Cerberus engineer forty meters away suddenly spun in place and went down.

I wasn't much use against the turrets in any case. I concentrated on laying down a singularity or two, disrupting the Cerberus troops and giving my friends a chance to take them down quickly. Once the troops themselves had been thinned out, Garrus sent a wave of overload charges down-range, tearing down the turrets' kinetic barriers. Major Kirrahe moved up and fired more proximity charges, his superb accuracy placing them directly on the turret mechanisms. Soon enough, the four of us were free to move forward.

"What is your objective, Commander?" the salarian asked when we had a moment to breathe.

"Professor Solus is with the last krogan female. We're moving to clear her pod through the checkpoints so she can evacuate aboard our shuttle."

"Sound strategy," judged Kirrahe. "I will assist you."

"You're more than welcome," said Shepard warmly.

"Interesting that Mordin would risk his life to help krogan. Always thought he was a bit of a cloaca."

Shepard chuckled. "I've worked with him too, Major, and I would tend to agree. But he's _our_ cloaca. His heart's in the right place, and he's got talent to burn."

"Agreed on all counts. Even in the STG he has a considerable reputation for getting the job done."

"Let's hope his reputation holds," I said quietly.

The next checkpoint was under even stronger attack, and Cerberus had cut the power to the lift as well. Once we had defeated a Cerberus squad, we had to find the power shunt and reset it before we could proceed.

While Shepard worked with the power shunt, Kirrahe suddenly moved to a side table and picked up another Scorpion pistol, apparently left behind by one of his fellow STG agents. He tossed the weapon to Garrus without a word, smiling broadly. Garrus caught the pistol, examined it closely, and then holstered it with a nod and a gleam in his eye.

_Soldiers_, I thought with a small smile. _No matter the species, they all speak the same language._

Finally we reached the top level once more, all of us sprinting wildly toward the sound of the guns. We arrived not a moment too soon. The isolation pod had come under the fiercest attack yet, almost two full squads of Cerberus troops dug in and pounding it with gunfire. The pod's barriers were already blotchy and flickering, about to come down.

Goddess, what a desperate fight. One at a time, no Cerberus trooper could match even _me_, much less my heavily armed and combat-trained friends. This enemy outnumbered us three to one, and we had to win _fast,_ before they broke into the isolation pod and ended the last hope for the krogan people. At least the enemy had their backs turned, concentrating on their objective. Our only advantage.

Shepard vanished from sight, blurring into one flash-charge after another, faster than I had ever believed possible. At first I could find no cover, so I simply ran forward as well, my corona blazing white as a star, hurling telekinetic force to all sides in a desperate attempt to keep the enemy off balance. Garrus and Kirrahe switched to their assault rifles for the sheer volume of fire, raining death wherever they could.

Then the enemy realized his danger, and turned to the counterattack.

I had only an instant to grab an exposed trooper with my mind, hurling him away over the edge of the terrace. Then a hurricane of gunfire pursued me as I fled for cover. My biotic barrier fell, my kinetic shields, and then a single bullet punched straight through my armor just as I slid into safety. Pain like fire all down my left side, indigo blood everywhere, and I choked out a snarl as I slapped the medi-gel tab on my softsuit.

_Goddess, that was close_._ A few centimeters to the right and it would have been through my heart._

I could still hear a battle. I reached up, levered myself into a half-crouch with my one good hand, and peeked around my cover to see what was going on.

Garrus and Kirrahe advancing, one covering the other in rapid succession, picking off Cerberus troopers one at a time.

Shepard flash-charging into the midst of a Cerberus knot, smashing one to the floor, the other two flying backward with the force of his arrival.

I gritted my teeth, reached for my biotics and couldn't quite get control of them. Once my kinetic barriers had recovered, I braced myself against my cover, brought my Shuriken to bear, and began firing back. Fortunately, shock never quite took me out of the fight. I could even stand and move up a bit, once my friends had broken the Cerberus line and the storm of hostile gunfire faded away.

Just in time for an Atlas mech to slam down on the outer terrace.

It moved up ponderously, its pilot spotting the isolation pod where it waited to be opened at last. Then Shepard, Garrus, and Kirrahe attacked it, drawing its fire.

I hurried to support them, as best I could with broken ribs and a gunshot wound along my left flank.

The mech turned, passing behind a support column, then standing at the top of a shallow staircase where it could look down onto the terrace. It raised its right arm, the rocket launcher pointing directly at me. I could hear the screech of the launcher's capacitor charging to maximum.

Then little blue-white spheres festooned the enormous mech, half a dozen of them at least.

Garrus and Kirrahe fired their Scorpion pistols as rapidly as possible, covering the Atlas with proximity mines.

The pilot turned his head. Despite his closed helmet, I could sense consternation.

_Crack! Crack – crack – crackcrackcrack!_

A wave of explosions blanketed the mech. Shepard fired his shotgun at it from point-blank range, and then hurled a powerful biotic shockwave to knock it off its feet entirely. I even managed to raise my Shuriken and pepper it with bullets.

It fell, its self-destruct charges kicking in a moment later to blow it to scrap.

Shepard noticed the blood on my armor. "Liara!"

I waved him off. "It looks worse than it is. I can stay on my feet until we get back to the _Normandy._ See to the krogan."

He ignored me, rushing over to put a supportive arm around my waist. I admitted to myself that I was glad for the help, even if it did hurt like fire.

Our shuttle landed once more in its place on the outermost terrace. The hatch opened to let Wrex strut out, every line of his massive body speaking of deep satisfaction. "Well, Shepard, you had me worried there for a few moments. Thought you might have gotten soft since we took out Saren. Although I have to admit, your pilot is pretty damn good."

Shepard scowled at him. "Not in the mood, Wrex."

"What, because Liara took a hit? Even from here I can see it's just a scratch. Anyone with _krogan_ in her family tree can bounce back from a little thing like that." And the scarred old krogan _winked_ at me.

_All right, how does __**he**__ know that when I only learned about it a few months ago?_

I realized I would need to have a long chat with Wrex about his intelligence sources, as soon as possible. For the moment, I gave him back a rather strained smile. "Too bad my grandfather didn't pass along his regenerative ability. Or – _ai!_ – his redundant nervous system."

"Hah! He gave you krogan _spirit_. That's what counts!"

Wrex turned, brusquely pushing Mordin aside, and offered the female krogan assistance in disembarking from her isolation pod.

She glanced at him, amused pride in her eyes, and ignored his hand as she stepped down. Then, quick as a striking serpent, she grabbed his Claymore shotgun and fired it twice, one-handed and with no time to aim.

The two Cerberus troopers who had just landed behind us fell, their armor smashed, covered in blood.

The female tossed the Claymore back its owner and turned to head for our shuttle. "I can take care of myself, Wrex."

All of us glanced at the krogan warlord, Garrus and Kirrahe looking especially amused.

He shrugged. "Women."

* * *

_**2030 Shipboard Time (SSV Normandy), 24 April 2186, Interstellar Space**_

I had managed a good job of self-diagnosis. The bullet scored my side, gouging out a nasty wound and breaking two ribs, but it reached no vital organs. Medi-gel kept me alive and in good condition until Dr. Chakwas could repair the damage. She then ordered me to bed, and put me on the light-duty roster for at least the next few days. I tried to protest to Shepard, but I might have known _that_ would be futile.

Thus when Shepard went off-duty, he found me lying in his bed, wearing nothing but bandages and some light sleepwear, working through a set of datapads. I looked up when I heard the door open, to see him arrive with a tray in his hands.

"Hello, love. Is that dinner?"

"Yes, it is. I had a sandwich a couple of hours ago, but I stopped by the galley and picked up one of your favorites."

I caught the aroma of garlic and meat sauce, and smiled. "Spaghetti and meatballs!"

"Plus _two_ pieces of fresh garlic bread. Think you can make it to the desk? Spaghetti isn't the kind of thing it's safe to eat in bed."

"True." I got up, still a little stiff and sore, but mobile. "It's a good thought. My stomach has been growling for hours, but I didn't want to risk the wrath of Dr. Chakwas by going down to the crew mess. She can see anyone sitting out there through her office window, you know."

"Not to worry." Shepard chuckled. "Mordin chased her out of sickbay entirely once you were patched up. He and Eve are set up in there for now."

"_Eve?"_

"She's apparently a shaman, and they don't give out their names, so we needed _something_ to call her. It's Mordin's idea. If this works, she's going to be the mother to her whole species."

I remembered stories I had read from Shepard's holy book, and nodded. I sat down at his desk and attacked my pasta, sipping from a glass of white wine along the way. He took off his boots and stretched out on the bed in turn, taking a deep breath as he let the day's tensions slip away.

"Does Mordin believe he can synthesize a cure?" I asked, once the edge had been taken off my appetite.

"It will take time. A week, maybe longer. Mordin has to reconstruct a lot of Maelon Heplorn's work, and he has to be careful not to hurt Eve while he's at it." His eyes closed, Shepard smiled. "He's pretty confident it can be done."

"You're glad to see the possibility of the genophage being cured."

"Yes, I am." He opened his eyes to watch me. "I know Wrex pretty well by now. I've had a chance to talk to Eve. I've talked to some other people too, both krogan and outsiders who know them well. There's more to the krogan than a pack of bloodthirsty barbarians."

"I agree . . ." I said, but I still hesitated.

"They went down a bad path thousands of years ago. Before they could figure out a better way on their own, the Council used them without any thought for the consequences. Then they suffered through centuries of the genophage, until they lost all hope for the future." He smiled at me, but his eyes were very determined. "They've paid in blood and pain for any mistakes they've made. They deserve a chance to find out what more they can be."

I crossed the room to sit down on the bed at his side. Almost without my will, my hand reached out to caress the side of his face. "William Allen Shepard, do you know why I love you?"

"Let me count the ways," he said, amused.

I snorted in exasperation. "You're a fine diplomat, you're a fiercely determined warrior . . . but you also have compassion enough for whole worlds. I'm fortunate beyond words that you've chosen to share your life with me."

He captured my hand, pressed a kiss into the palm. A kiss to his forehead in return, and then I went back to the desk to finish my meal.

"Liara, there was something else I wondered about."

"The data I stopped to download in the middle of our battle," I guessed.

"Right. What was up with that?"

I took a sip of my wine and sighed. "A very nasty suspicion. One which I've already confirmed."

"Something to do with the yahg, I'll bet. It gave _me_ a bad turn when I saw those creatures in STG custody. I can only imagine how you felt about it."

"Yes. It's all in that datapad there, by your right foot."

He grumbled a little at having to shift positions, but he reached out for the specified device and brought it up for closer examination. That lasted only a few moments. "_Argh._ I'm not up to parsing through gigabytes of salarian scientific reporting right now. Executive summary?"

"The salarians have _already_ decided to uplift the yahg, the same way they did the krogan all those centuries ago."

He stared at me, his blue eyes gone glacial.

"The only thing that's halted the project is the Reaper invasion," I told him. "For now we have bigger problems to worry about. If we manage to survive the Reapers . . ."

"Then we may have yet another war to look forward to," he growled. "Any indication as to the targets the salarians have in mind?"

"Yes. The krogan, of course. The Batarian Hegemony. Various Terminus warlords." I paused, knowing he could anticipate what came next. "The Alliance."

He nodded, his suspicions confirmed.

"Shepard . . ."

"I know. We need to keep this information buried for the time being. Bad enough that _dalatrass_ Linron isn't playing ball. This would split the Citadel Council wide open, might even cost us what little salarian support we have." Very carefully, his rage under tight control, he dropped the datapad on the bed. For a moment I had an image of the device shattering against the far wall of the cabin. "Liara, I want you to promise me something."

"Anything."

"If we beat the Reapers . . . I want you to make _absolutely sure_ this information gets to the right people. Much as I've come to like a lot of individual salarians, I have damn well had _enough_ of their government and its schemes."

"I promise. Shepard, I should point out that all of the salarians you know well are male. Apolitical. Soldiers and scientists without an agenda of their own. It's the _dalatrass_ who give the orders."

"Maybe." He shrugged, letting his anger fade. "I'm not sure it matters. Mordin is as independent a salarian as I've ever met, and even he was perfectly okay with _just following orders_ for most of his life. In the end, I don't much care where the problem lies. If the _dalatrass_ decide on a power grab, if they decide to release _yahg_ on the rest of us, then someone is going to have to put them down. Hard."

I nodded in agreement.

Ironic, that by the time the issue arose, Shepard had long since gone. At least those of us who remembered him were able to take action as he would have wished.


	16. Interview

_**1200 Shipboard Time (SSV Normandy), 26 April 2186, Utukku Orbit**_

"Let's begin. Your name?"

Silence. Four hot yellow eyes stared at me from across the table. I waited patiently.

"_Rrrh_," he growled at last. "You speak Prothean with an abominable accent, asari. Under the Unity, even the meanest of our servitor races would have taken pride in speaking more clearly."

"I didn't have the dubious benefit of the Unity's instruction. Deal with it. _Your name."_

"Javik Taran. The custom is to use only the outer name except among intimates. To you I am Javik."

"Service and rank?"

"Arm of the Unity. Extraordinary Forces. Commander First Class. Decorated seven times for valor in battle. Your _Shepard_ is a fool, to leave me idle on board while he goes down to the surface to fight."

"Shepard will call you to fight when he believes you are ready, and when he is certain he can trust you. What was the span of control associated with your rank, within the Arm of the Unity?"

"It varied. A typical Commander First Class might lead perhaps two thousand soldiers in the field. As a member of Extraordinary Forces, I led smaller units, but of elite quality. I spent several years in command of a cruiser, like this _Normandy_ but somewhat larger."

_Roughly equivalent to a colonel in most human military organizations, a captain in the Alliance Navy, or a major in the Alliance Marines_, I noted on my datapad.

"You were not a general officer, then."

"No. So late in our war against the Reapers, the Arm of the Unity was shattered. Few general officers survived. We learned to fight in small units, independent of any central command. Unorthodox strategy. Innovative tactics." He took a deep breath. "It was of no use. No matter what we tried, it only delayed our fate."

"Your Unity didn't approve of . . . _innovative _tactics?"

"In the great days of the Unity, command was highly centralized. Officers in the field were expected to follow the established doctrine that our people had worked out over centuries of successful conquest."

"I imagine that doctrine wasn't very effective against the Reapers."

"It was not. The Reapers applied an extreme form of natural selection. Those who could adapt and exercise initiative, survived. Those who could not, died. By the time I was born and rose to command, no one remained to insist on the old ways." A grim smile. "I developed a reputation for low cunning on the battlefield. It was said of me that I did not fight fairly. Understand, asari, that this was _praise_."

"I understand." I turned to another subject. "What was your mission on Takenu?"

"The extinction was nearly complete. The Reapers marched to destroy the last of our people." He looked down at the table, reliving painful memories. "Takenu stood isolated, far from the centers of Reaper activity. We hoped to conceal a remnant of our people, some of our best and strongest, hidden away until the Reapers returned to dark space. Then we would rise, a million strong, the seed of a new Unity."

"You were the leader of this project?"

"I was the military commander, chosen to lead our people into the next cycle."

"That must have been quite a heavy responsibility . . . for a Commander First Class."

"_Rrrh_. No one of higher rank was available. Most of those selected for the project were civilians in any case. Farmers, machinists, engineers, scientists."

"They all were prepared to defer to you?"

"Yes." He stared at me. "Civilians must defer to the Arm of the Unity. Is it not so among your peoples?"

"It depends. We can discuss the social structures of this cycle later. So the military held authority in your society?"

"Yes."

"Was that always the case? Or was it the result of your war against the Reapers?"

"It was always the case. Every class in our society served the Unity. Our empire was built upon conquest, from the very beginning."

"Conquest of whom?"

"The subservient races. One by one, we encountered them as we expanded into the galaxy. One by one, we conquered them and made them part of the Unity. Over time most of them accepted our culture and became valued members of our society. If they could not or would not, they perished."

"You never considered permitting them to live on their own? Inviting them to be your allies?"

"What would be the point? Power is not a thing that can be shared. One rules, or one submits. Nature demands that the strong dominate the weak, that all may flourish together. If conquest and assimilation are possible, it is a violation of duty and reason to refrain. If any of the other races had proven stronger than the Unity, we would have submitted. None did. Until the Reapers came."

I frowned slightly, trying to conceal the abandonment of decades of fond illusion.

_The Protheans are not at all what I expected._ _All those vast cities and soaring spires, all that brilliance in engineering and the sciences, all of it was a façade covering nothing but brute force._

_For millennia, ever since we discovered their existence, we asari have aspired to emulate them._

_This may have been a serious mistake._

I decided to deviate from my script for a moment. "Where did the primitive races fall into this scheme?"

Javik cocked his head. "Which ones?"

"We're aware that your scientists were observing some of our species before the extinction cycle began. Asari, humans, and hanar at the very least."

"Yes. The turians as well. Very promising species."

"What were your intentions?"

"At some point you would have been uplifted to join the Unity."

"I assume we would have been given no choice in the matter."

"No."

"So what happened?"

Javik cocked his head at me. "Clarify."

"None of those projects reached completion. The hanar were partially uplifted, but not so far as to give them a high-technology civilization. As far as we know, your people never moved beyond observing asari or humans."

I saw a gleam in his many eyes, one I couldn't guess how to interpret. "What do you think, asari? The Reapers happened."

"You abandoned the projects to fight the Reapers?"

"Of course. When we first began to observe you, we already knew the extinction cycle existed but we did not know its cause. Nor did we know how long it would be before the next cycle began. We hoped we would have plenty of time to bring you into our civilization. When the Reapers appeared, we saw it was too late. We also saw that the Reapers ignored primitives. We left you alone so that you would have a chance to grow strong before the next cycle." His eyes narrowed to slits of yellow flame. "A pity you did not make better use of the opportunity."

"Excuse me?"

"I have been reading your _extranet_. A primitive form of communication and data archival, but simple enough to interpret. Your _Citadel Council_ . . . it is a hollow joke compared to our Unity. You are weak and divided. The Reapers will devour you in a fraction of the time they needed for us."

"You will notice that we are still fighting."

"Badly. _Rrrh_. At least you have not given up. That is good. I only wish you had not wasted the time we purchased for you with our blood and pain." He shrugged, shifted his position in his chair. "Never mind. You have more questions?"

I tapped at my datapad, taking a few notes, gathering my thoughts before I moved on to the next subject on my list. "Yes. Let's discuss the Crucible."

"I know very little about that project."

"Perhaps. Any small recollection might be critical, as we try to reconstruct what your people were trying to accomplish."

He made a nod of grudging approval. "True."

"I've read inscriptions that said the Crucible was based on information you inherited from your own predecessors. The _inusannon_."

"That is what I was told."

"Do you have any idea where they got it?"

"No." He paused to think. "I heard a rumor once. The _inusannon_ were said to have learned something from the ones who came before them, the _kerrach_. A vulnerability in the Reapers, plans for a device that could exploit that weakness. Whether this was the same as our Crucible, I do not know."

"So the Crucible might have been handed down, somehow, from one cycle to the next."

"Possibly. Scraps of information, a few artifacts, these things may survive even the Reapers. Especially if someone makes an effort to preserve knowledge for the future."

I stared at him, while the idea crashed into my mind.

_I'm an archaeologist. I understand how artifacts can survive over long periods of time. I have access to vast quantities of information. Everything we've learned about galactic history, about the Reapers. Could I compile the most important of it, and preserve it as he suggests?_

I made a note to investigate the idea further, and then moved on.

"Do you know what the Crucible's _function_ might have been? Our scientists and engineers have looked at the blueprints, we have begun to build the device, but we are at a loss to _understand_ it. It appears designed to gather and direct vast quantities of energy, but we can see no targeting mechanism, no way to focus that energy for destructive purposes. It looks nothing like any weapon we have seen before."

"Yes. I have been examining the blueprints as well, asari, and I concur. It is very strange."

"You're more familiar with the Unity's technical base than any of us, especially in the field of weapons technology. Do you have any ideas?"

"_Rrrh_." Javik worked with the computer controls at his side of the table, calling up an image of the Crucible between us. "Remember that the Unity may have inherited the Crucible design from previous cycles. These plans do show some of our influence, but many elements of the design appear foreign. They may indicate a different approach to engineering. Perhaps even a different approach to the foundations of physical science."

"Is that possible?"

"Certainly. The cosmos remains the same for all, unalterable, but every species interprets its perceptions of the cosmos in a different manner." He leaned close, examining the image carefully. "Even so, some things should remain invariant. Perhaps this is _not _a weapon in any sense you or I would recognize."

"What do you think it is?"

"A communications device. Designed to deliver information, not raw force."

I looked at the blueprints, and wished I had more expertise in large-scale engineering. For a moment I almost thought I could see what he described, but then it was gone. "How could a _communications device_ defeat the Reapers?"

"The Reapers are machines, are they not? Terrible, vastly intelligent, and yet only machines. Machines may be programmed to carry out their function with great single-mindedness. Change the program, and you change the behavior. Possibly you cause the machine to break down entirely."

"You're suggesting that the Reapers might be . . . _hacked?"_

"I suggest nothing, asari. You asked my opinion."

"Hmm. Does the term _Catalyst_ mean anything to you?"

"Not in this context. Clearly that was the component my people failed to fully understand."

I sighed. "If the designs are incomplete and your Unity failed to finish them, I don't see how we can succeed. We must simply keep trying, I suppose."

"That is all that can ever be done, asari. All striving is completed only by death."

_How very Prothean of you_, I thought to myself. "I think that's all for this session, Javik. Thank you for your cooperation."

"So what will you report of me to your mate?"

I stared at him. "I never told you I was mated to Commander Shepard."

"You didn't have to. Your pheromones did."

"I see." I considered for a moment. "If I understand you correctly, you're mostly concerned with whether I will advise Shepard to invite you onto the ground team."

"I am of no use sitting here in the cargo hold."

"You've already been of considerable use to _me_. Still, I believe I will recommend that you join the mission squad. My main concern was whether or not you can be trusted."

"I have no reason to betray any of you. All of my motivations are fifty thousand years dead, except one: to see the Reapers destroyed."

"Unless you are indoctrinated."

That brought him up short. His eyes blazed at me for a moment, but then he nodded slowly. "Yes. Where the Reapers are involved, this is always a concern."

"You faced indoctrination in your war?"

"Yes." Suddenly he could not meet my gaze. "Before my final assignment to the project on Takenu . . ."

I watched him, my face carefully blank, waiting patiently.

"I had a command of my own. A fast cruiser, ideal for hit-and-run raids, missions deep into Reaper-controlled space. Much like this _Normandy_. I suppose your Commander Shepard is an officer much as I was then. I had my own team, drawn from all the races of the Unity, the best and the strongest I could find. We fought many battles together, against the Reapers and their slaves. We even convinced ourselves that some of those battles were victories.

"Then it all came to an end. Reaper forces ambushed us. They captured my ship, and all of my team. Only I escaped, thinking never to see any of them again. I was wrong. I saw all of them again. They had become indoctrinated, Reaper slaves, sent out into the galaxy to hunt me down."

I wanted to reach across the table and lay my hand on his arm in sympathy. I repressed the urge.

"Do you know what I did, asari?" Javik drew his combat knife and laid it on the table between us. "I hunted them down instead. All my former comrades. I killed them with my own hands. Some of them with this very knife."

"I understand," I said quietly.

"Do you, asari? Do you truly understand?"

"The first victim of indoctrination I ever saw was my own mother," I told him. "I was there when we had to kill her, three years ago on Noveria."

He stared at me for a long moment. "I apologize, asari. Perhaps you _do_ understand after all."

"I don't pretend that any of us can match what you have lost," I told him. "But don't make the mistake of assuming we've had no price of our own to pay."

"_Rrrh_. I am properly rebuked. Although I fear your losses may equal mine, before this is over."

"I'm not keeping score."

"Wise." He reached out, recovered his combat knife and replaced it in its sheath. "If you are finished for today, asari, I have some questions for you."

"I suppose that's fair enough. What do you want to know?"

"I want to know if your Commander Shepard can do what must be done to win this war."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Would you trust any answer I gave you?"

"That depends on you. You are his mate, and I would expect you to be loyal to him. You are also his spymaster. You deal in information, seeking out the truth that leads to victory. You cannot afford to lie to yourself, asari, and I will know at once if you lie to me."

"Shepard is a superb soldier. He has great courage and determination."

"This I already know. Were he under my command, I would trust him to carry out any order I gave, even at the cost of his life. Unfortunately, _I_ am under _his_ command . . . and I suspect he has crippled himself."

"In what way?"

"He trusts those who do not merit his trust. He wastes time in negotiation, when he should be forcing others to obey his will. He wastes more time assisting the weak, when he should be casting them aside or using them in pursuit of his true mission." Javik shrugged. "I do not doubt his personal skill in the art of warfare, but if he will not use that skill when it is needed, he is doomed to failure."

"I disagree. Under his leadership we have already defeated the Reapers three times."

"No. You have not defeated them even _once_. At most you have delayed them by a few years. Now they are _here_. The methods your Shepard used before simply _will not work_ against this enemy, now that they have brought all their might to bear."

I frowned and said nothing.

"I know more about you than you realize. Unlike your mate, _you_ have lied, stolen, betrayed, killed in cold blood, all to carry out your mission. _You_ are willing to do what must be done."

"How do you know anything about me?" I demanded, damning the quiver that crept into my voice.

"The things you have experienced, the choices you have made, all of this marks you. Your posture, your speech patterns, your gestures, your scent . . . I have already learned much, even without touching you for a deep reading. You are like some I once knew who served the Shadow of the Unity. Spies. Dealers in secrets, lies and betrayal."

I gave him my best aristocratic stare. "I have no regrets."

"Now you are lying to me. Of course you have regrets. But you need not fear my judgment. I approve. It is your Shepard whose naïveté I fear."

"Hmm." I rose from the table, picking up my datapads as an excuse not to hold his fierce yellow gaze. "I understand, but I think you are underestimating Commander Shepard. After all that he has done, all that he has suffered . . . he does _not_ act as he does out of naïveté."

"Then what drives him?"

For an instant, I had no answer that he would understand. Then it came to me, and I could meet Javik's stare once more. "Conviction," I told him. "Despite all evidence to the contrary . . . he believes that if he gives all he has, if he can persuade and lead others to do the same, then _that will be enough."_

"_Rrrh."_ Javik growled, shaking his head. "Some would call that delusion."

"Perhaps. I plan to reserve judgment, until we see the final outcome." I gave in to a moment's temptation toward cruelty. "After all, Commander First Class Javik Taran, of the Arm of the Unity . . . you _lost_ your war. Ours is not yet decided."

"That is true," he said, and I heard only a trace of resentment in his voice. "I hope your faith is not misplaced."


	17. Raising the Stakes

Days passed.

I healed. I directed my network, sending my ships and agents to snatch critical information and technology out of the Reapers' grasp. I worked with my scientific colleagues across the galaxy, helping to translate and interpret Prothean texts. I interrogated Javik for many hours, pulling memories out of the last Prothean's mind, searching for any small hint I could find that might be of use.

Shepard fought a number of battles without me, on Utukku, Benning, and Sanctum. His luck held. He never returned with serious injuries, only minor bruises and scrapes that Dr. Chakwas had no difficulty healing. Every evening I would meet him in our shared cabin, hear the story of his latest engagement, and share his memories if he felt energetic enough for intimate contact. He usually did. The constant fighting, the constant worry over Earth, all of it wore him down. Yet for a time he seemed to draw upon an inexhaustible fund of strength and determination.

Then Mordin announced that he neared completion of his task. A cure for the genophage was only a few days away.

_Normandy_ crossed the mass-relay network to the Krogan Demilitarized Zone, taking up a high orbit over Tuchanka . . . and everything changed.

Until that time I had never been to Tuchanka, but I had Shepard's memories from his previous visit eight months before. Venturing into the midst of hostile krogan, hostile wildlife, and the rigors of survival on a very hostile planet, Shepard had come away victorious but exhausted.

Now conditions were far worse.

As Wrex reported, Reaper forces had already landed on the planet: twisted rachni _ravagers_, corrupted turian _marauders_, and once-human _husks_ by the thousand. They harassed the krogan, especially in the regions held by Clan Urdnot and its allies. Defeated krogan disappeared for a time, only to return as monstrous _brutes,_ forming the core of an ever-growing force of Reaper shock troops.

We also found Cerberus had reached Tuchanka before us, hoping to wreck the new alliance before it could begin. While the Reapers seemed to attack at random, Cerberus struck with calculating precision. _Normandy_ fought three engagements against Cerberus ships in orbit, while Shepard took his team several times to stop the renegade humans on the surface.

That was where my bondmate took his first serious wound, not of the body, but of the spirit.

I never had the chance to meet Lieutenant Tarquin Victus, the Primarch's only son, ill-fated commander of the Ninth Platoon. He remained on Tuchanka the whole time, and I did not go down to the surface myself until after he had been killed in action. Shepard, on the other hand, worked closely with him for three days.

In his memories, afterward, I saw how deeply Shepard came to care for that chance-met young comrade. Shepard rescued him from his fatal mistake. Mentored him as he fought to regain command and the respect of his men. Fought at his side against Reapers and Cerberus alike. Took part in the same desperate rush to disarm a turian planet-buster before it could lay waste to half of Tuchanka.

Shepard was there, helpless to intervene, when Lieutenant Victus sacrificed his life for the sake of the krogan people.

Afterward I was present when Shepard lost his temper in the war room, _shouting_ at Primarch and warlord alike in naked rage, shaming them both into letting go of their disputes. He was grim and taciturn for the rest of that day. In the evening he had no interest in making love, a rare event for him. Instead he simply lay on his back with me tucked under the curve of one arm, staring at the ceiling for long hours until sleep finally claimed him.

War is a terrible and ugly business, and yet some people call it glorious. I think this is because they forget the blood, the sweat, the filth, the destruction, the terrible pain and suffering. What they remember, after the worst is long over, is the comradeship. The loyalty of soldiers on the field, who must rely on one another absolutely or perish. The admiration for others who face terrible odds, and yet manage to pull victory out of the jaws of defeat. There is a bond there, not _eros,_ but a form of _philia_ that can spring into existence very quickly under the stress of the battlefield.

Shepard had become very fond of Tarquin Victus. It was a great shock to see him die. Almost as great a shock as the death of Kaidan Alenko, three years before.

No tragedy is entirely without its associated good. Shepard and the Primarch became close friends for the first time, commiserating over the young turian officer's death. But it was a very forbidding Shepard who entered the war room, on the day we were ready at last to cure the genophage.

* * *

_**1000 Shipboard Time (SSV Normandy), 4 May 2186, Tuchanka Orbit**_

"All right, what is this, blocking our approach to the Shroud?"

"New form of Reaper, Shepard," said Mordin. "Smaller. Apparently specialized for combat operations, not harvesting procedure. Using Shroud to poison Tuchanka's atmosphere. Problematic."

Wrex growled. "They want a fight, they just got one!"

I watched Shepard as he examined the map projected before us: the terrain, the weather conditions, the current positions of Reaper and krogan units on the ground, the available inventory of Alliance and turian forces in orbit. After a full minute, he nodded decisively and turned to his right. "Primarch, we're going to need your help."

"That won't be easy," said Victus. "Our losses on Palaven have been catastrophic. I'm under pressure from home to pull our expeditionary force out of the Krogan DMZ."

"We're doing this _for_ Palaven," Shepard said firmly. "No one ever said any of this was going to be easy."

"True. What do you have in mind?"

"A combined attack." Shepard manipulated his controls, placing more units on the map, with arrows to indicate movement and engagement. "Your people hit the Reaper from above with an airstrike. At the same time, the krogan attack from the ground with Alliance and turian support, using this built-up terrain as cover. Together, you can draw the Reaper away from the Shroud facility long enough for us to disperse the genophage cure."

Mordin nodded in agreement. "Yes. Distraction. Small team can reach Shroud facility, finish synthesizing cure. Will need Eve to come with us."

"Primarch, your opinion?"

Victus nodded slowly. "There's a great deal of risk, but if the plan succeeds . . ."

"Then the alliance we're trying to build stands," said Wrex.

"Yes. I'll arrange for air support."

I listened quietly for several minutes, while the military professionals in the room discussed deployments, timing, coordination, logistics. Even an amateur like me could appreciate the sheer speed with which the group fleshed out Shepard's plan.

"All right," said Shepard at last. "EDI, get everyone on deck for this one. James is to lead the rest of the _Normandy_ Marine contingent. Primarch, I suggest that Garrus take command of the Ninth Platoon. Those units can land _here_, rendezvous with the main krogan ground force, and support their attack."

"I concur. _Propraetor_ Vakarian, are you prepared?"

Garrus made a very crisp salute. "Yes, sir!"

"I think my son would have been proud to see his men under your command for this mission. The honor of the Turian Hierarchy rests on your shoulders today."

Garrus nodded. I could almost _see_ his urge to issue some cynical quip, very firmly suppressed.

"EDI, I want you to send your mobile platform along with the ground assault team, for liaison and technical support."

"_Understood, Commander."_

"I'll lead the infiltration team to escort Mordin and Eve to the Shroud. Liara, you and Javik are with me."

"Hah!" barked Wrex. "Finally bringing your Prothean along? I imagine he knows a thing or two about fighting Reapers."

"You could say that," I agreed quietly.

"Everyone has their assignments. Are we ready for this?"

"Is there any doubt?" demanded Wrex, already striding toward the door. "Let's move, pyjak. It's time to cure the genophage."

The krogan's force of character seemed to gather almost everyone else in his wake. That quickly, a crowd set out to follow Wrex, on their way to the staging bay and their deployment onto the surface of Tuchanka.

Only Shepard remained behind for a moment, studying the holographic map with hooded eyes. I remembered a time early in our campaign against Saren, when he first stepped forward to propose a strategy to officers far senior to himself . . . a strategy which worked. Now he laid out a plan of battle for two heads of state to follow, for the very highest of stakes. I knew the weight which had just settled squarely on his shoulders.

I almost moved to touch him, to speak to him, but then Samantha Traynor's voice sounded from the bridge. _"Commander, there's an incoming message, marked urgent. I'll put it in the comm room for you."_

"Where's it from, Specialist?"

"_Sir . . . it's coming from Sur'Kesh."_

Shepard looked across the room and caught my eye. I nodded, and followed him into the QEC chamber. He stepped up onto the transmission stage. I lurked in the shadows, ready to watch, silent and unseen.

The imaging stage shimmered with blue-white light, forming an image. _Dalatrass_ Linron. I nodded, winning a small bet with myself.

"_Commander Shepard. We know you've reached Tuchanka. By now, I imagine Mordin Solus has proposed using the Shroud."_

"_Dalatrass,_ are you spying on us?"

"_Hardly. If you are determined to follow this disastrous course of action, then the Shroud is the only viable course of action open to you. Commander, I will say it once more: you can't allow your misguided sympathy for the krogan to cloud your judgment. Do you honestly believe curing the genophage will lead to a lasting peace?"_

"Yes, _dalatrass,_ I do. The krogan deserve a chance to redeem themselves and play a part in the galaxy's defense. We can't condemn an entire race to extinction because of something that _might_ happen."

"_What __**will**__ happen is that the krogan will reproduce out of control. We uplifted them specifically for their violent nature, not their diplomatic skills. Another war is inevitable."_

"Evidence."

Linron's image blinked. _"What?"_

"Where is your evidence?"

"_Please. Remember who you are speaking to. I have access to the best sociometricians in the galaxy. Every study they have performed on the krogan . . ."_

"Was done in a context that doesn't include the Reapers. Or the presence of krogan leaders who understand the mistakes of their past and are ready to push their people in a new direction. Or the possibility that a new relationship between krogan and the rest of the galaxy could be forged on the basis of gratitude and mutual respect." Shepard cocked his head. _"Dalatrass_, there's no getting around it. We need the krogan _now_. Curing the genophage and getting a krogan alliance against the Reapers is worth the risk. My judgment stands."

"_What if I could offer you a course of action that preserves the krogan alliance against the Reapers, but offers no risk of a new Krogan Rebellion for us to deal with afterward?"_

Shepard hesitated, frowning. Acting on instinct, I opened my omni-tool silently and set it to _record_.

"What do you have in mind, _dalatrass?"_

"_Long ago, STG operatives sabotaged the Shroud facility to ensure what you're planning couldn't be done. Left to his own devices, Mordin will likely detect this sabotage and repair it. If you ensure that he doesn't, then the cure's viability will be altered just enough so that it fails. No one will notice the change."_

I could see Shepard's features, carefully controlled, a blank diplomatic mask that revealed nothing. "You mean . . . _trick_ the krogan?"

"_Let Urdnot Wrex believe for now that you have fulfilled your promise. He need not be any the wiser, so long as this war continues. While the male krogan are away fighting the Reapers, they will not be on Tuchanka attempting to breed. After the Reapers are disposed of . . . the krogan will be as they were, their numbers reduced still further, posing no threat."_

Shepard was absolutely motionless, a sign I could read but that the _dalatrass_ probably could not. "This all depends on Mordin. He would never stand for any of it."

"_How you deal with Mordin is up to you, Commander."_ She peered at Shepard, a slight smile on her face, clearly believing her persuasion effective. _"We can provide you our very best scientists to build the Crucible. The support of our fleets. Think about it, Commander. The choice is yours."_

The salarian leader's image shimmered and vanished. Shepard was left to stand alone, his head bowed, his right hand clenched into a fist at his side.

I turned off the recording. "Shepard?"

He turned to glance at me. Suddenly I was _very glad_ that I wasn't _dalatrass_ Linron.

* * *

_**0930 Local Time, 4 May 2186, Urdnot Clan Territory/Tuchanka**_

The Kodiak shuttle had a roomy passenger compartment, big enough to deploy two whole squads of Marines with all their armor and gear. Today it felt almost crowded, like an emergency at a diplomatic conference. Two humans, two krogan, a salarian, an asari, a _Prothean_ . . .

"I've ordered the clans to assemble at the Hollows," said Wrex.

Shepard nodded. "I remember you telling me about the place, while we were chasing Saren."

"It's a natural mustering point. From there our forces can set out for the Shroud . . . and the Reaper." Wrex seemed to grow, standing taller than I had ever seen him, his head held high with pride. "This will be the defining moment of krogan history."

"Krogan history full of defining moments," observed Mordin. "Most bloody. Hope this one better."

Wrex snorted, and turned to sit down for the rest of the descent to the surface.

"Commander?" Eve peered at Shepard across the shuttle's cabin. "You seem troubled."

I blinked in surprise. _I know how to read him because human body language isn't that different from asari, and because we asari are very good at reading others in any case. How did a krogan manage to detect it?_

Shepard shook his head, but not in disagreement. "I got a message, from the . . ."

The shuttle jolted, _hard_. All of us were forced to grab for something and hold on.

"Cortez?"

"Reaper ack-ack from the ground, Commander. Not much, just enough to force me to evade. Looks like the landing zone may be hot."

Wrex had a hand up to the side of his head, listening to a radio transmission. "The Reapers are already at the Hollows. We'd better be ready to come out with guns blazing!"

"Take us in, Lieutenant!"

"Aye-aye, Commander. Hang on tight. We're almost there, and I'm going to land us fast."

Cortez was as good as his word. Moments later the shuttle dropped below the AA fire, the ride smoothed out, and we could stand and prepare our weapons.

Wrex opened the hatch just before we touched down. A husk was standing just outside. It howled and turned to charge at us . . . and Wrex blew its head off with his shotgun. We could hear more of them, not far away. _Many_ more.

"At last," growled Javik, his grip tight on his ancient beam rifle.

Wrex jumped out of the shuttle, glancing to all sides to take in the situation. "Shepard, keep them away from the female! I'll sort out what's happening with the other clans."

Then the krogan warlord went running, and Shepard led us into battle.

I didn't have time to get much of a first impression of Tuchanka. Ancient stone and concrete rose on all sides, worn down by time, shattered girders and metal mesh standing out like exposed teeth. Shepard led us down a short ramp, through an enormous steel door, and into the great open space of the Hollows. Once this must have been a huge amphitheater, but now it apparently served as a burial place for the honored krogan dead. Krogan bones scattered thickly across the floor and up into several broken rows of seating, the skulls in particular set in places of honor in the open air. Only a great dais in the center of the space was clear of bones, apparently some kind of ceremonial platform.

Now krogan fought desperately against husks on all sides, some of them already horribly injured and covered with blood, turning the already-grotesque place into a foretaste of hell.

Husks turned, saw us at the top of our ramp, charged us by the score.

_The Reapers must have gotten word of our upcoming attack_, I had a bare instant to think. Then, with the others, I had to fight for my life.

"Everyone pick your targets and keep an eye on our six!" commanded Shepard. "Now _move!"_

"Asari! Take notice!" Javik made a gesture, a _green _-white corona springing into being around his shoulders and arms. Then some kind of biotic effect, one I had never seen before, rushed down to swallow three of the leading husks. It _clung_ to them, slowing their movements, eating away at them from the surface inward.

Instinctively I called up a biotic warp and sent it down after . . . whatever it was that the Prothean had done.

_Wham!_ My warp detonated his effect as if it had been an ordinary pull-field or a singularity, scattering husks far and wide.

"Good job," muttered Shepard, just before he blurred and vanished into a soaring flash-charge. Right into the middle of the momentary hole that Javik and I had opened in the crowd of husks. Then he set off a _nova_, his shout and the crash of the explosion echoing off the distant roof like the sound of imminent thunder. Husks and ancient bones scattered broken to the four quarters.

Then he did it again.

And _again_.

The husks tried to swarm him, but he was never in one place long enough for them to crowd close, and every time he charged it was like lightning striking in their midst. The crash of his shotgun, smashing husks that didn't quite fall within the blast radius of his charge, seemed almost an afterthought.

_Goddess, how is he maintaining that level of biotic output?_

"_Shepard, this is Wrex. It's getting ugly over here. Whatever you do, keep them away from the female!"_

Javik and I hadn't had any chance to drill together – something I knew we would have to remedy – so we were clumsy at first. I missed the smooth partnership I enjoyed with Shepard, or with Kaidan. Still, it didn't take us long to work out our timing. The Prothean would deploy his weird green-glowing miasma over a clump of husks, and then I would detonate it with a warp field to shatter the enemy into gory shreds. In between, we both advanced slowly and kept up a steady stream of weapons fire into the enemy's seething mass. We concentrated on picking off the husks that evaded Shepard's charges, preventing them from climbing the ramp to reach our shuttle. Protecting Eve.

In my few free moments, I quickly found myself admiring Javik's skill in combat. At once he recognized that the husks had no ability to attack at range, so he didn't bother to look for cover, instead moving freely across the broken ground. Without having to discuss the matter, he immediately divided the battlefield with me – watching his quarter, trusting me to watch mine, and cutting down every target he saw with grim efficiency. I could tell he was prioritizing his targets from moment to moment, exhibiting situational awareness that matched anything I had seen from Shepard.

Shepard, of course, served as a living bomb. He mowed husks down by the dozen. Javik and I may have destroyed twenty or thirty husks in that battle. I suspect Shepard destroyed over a hundred.

It seemed to take forever, but in truth it probably lasted no more than five or six minutes. Finally the mass of husks thinned out, the surviving krogan able to deal with their last few foes. Shepard, Javik, and I assembled at the foot of the ramp once more. Shepard looked tired, as well he might given the sheer power he had just finished exerting. I felt the need for a short rest and an energy bar myself.

Javik, on the other hand, was _grinning_. "A good fight, Commander. Even before a lavish meal, one always enjoys the appetizer."

"That must be your first time in fifty thousand years," Shepard observed with a weary smile. "These husks seem familiar to you?"

"The Reapers used similar creatures in my cycle. Not precisely like these, to be sure. They appear to be corrupted humans?"

"Yes."

"_Rrrh._ I am glad you do not permit that to hold you back, Commander. Once the Reapers have worked their will, nothing remains. They are already dead. All that remains is to enforce that status upon them."

"We've fought them before. More times than I care to count."

"Very effectively, I see. Your biotic abilities are most impressive. As are yours, asari."

_Goddess help us, he's being positively magnanimous. If all it takes is for him to be thrown into a battle, I hope Shepard does it often._

The door where we had entered the Hollows banged open. A dozen krogan came pacing down the ramp, all of them with Urdnot clan markings. Wrex led them, absolutely _covered_ in blood, although apparently little of it was his.

"They'll sing battle songs about this someday!" he shouted. "Reaper blood has finally soaked our soil."

Krogan gathered down on the floor of the Hollows, coming down the ramp, climbing down from the seating, all roaring in vigorous agreement. Thirty of them. Sixty. I found myself surrounded by more excited krogan than I had ever before seen in my life. Their scent, and the smell of blood and dead husks, was overpowering.

Shepard hurried to meet Wrex. "We have to get moving. We're behind schedule and that airstrike is on its way."

Mordin appeared at the back of Wrex's group, eager to report. "Female krogan safe, Shepard. Vitals are strong."

"_What's a salarian doing here?"_ someone bellowed.

I turned to watch the newcomer, walking at the head of a dozen Blood Pack krogan, all pale face and brown crest and burning red eyes. I thought I saw a resemblance to Wrex, although the newcomer lacked our friend's extensive network of scars.

"Nobody said anything about this!" he shouted, staring at Mordin with naked hostility.

"Multiple hostile krogan," muttered the salarian. "Problematic."

"Who are you?" demanded Shepard.

"Urdnot Wreav," snarled the newcomer. "Brood-brother to our . . . _illustrious_ leader."

Wrex grunted in disgust, while the krogan at his back growled. "Wreav and I share the same mother. And nothing else."

"For which I'm thankful. At least _I_ remember what it is to be true krogan."

Another round of growling, this time from the krogan at Wreav's back. I unobtrusively checked my weapon, wondering how long I could survive in the middle of a krogan civil war.

"We flay our enemies alive and drown them in a geyser of their own blood," Wreav continued. "We don't invite them into our _homes."_

Shepard stepped forward, not quite placing himself between the two sides. "This salarian is not your enemy. He's here to help cure the genophage."

"His kind _gave_ us the genophage! Why should we trust him?"

Wrex shifted his weight, and then pounced into a ferocious head-butt that rocked his half-brother back on his heels. Much growling and shouting followed from _both_ sides.

"Because I do," said Wrex, quiet danger in his voice. "And so will you, Wreav."

Wreav's tolerance seemed exhausted. As voices on all sides rose to echo off the roof, he snarled and reached behind him for his shotgun. With a great clatter, dozens more followed suit on all sides.

_Oh Goddess . . ._

"_Enough!"_

All of us turned to look up the ramp.

Eve stood there alone, staring down at the fractious crowd of male krogan, her stance one of confidence and pride.

It was like magic. Male krogan filled the space, just finished with a terrible fight, all fizzing with hormones of anger and aggression. Yet every one of them immediately lowered his weapons and backed away. Even Wreav and Wrex glanced at each other for an instant, and then stood down from their dominance-postures. All growling and roaring ceased, and a still silence spread. Every single krogan in all that vast space seemed to lean forward, waiting for what Eve had to say.

_One female shaman, speaking a single word, and a battle is ended before it can begin._

I began to realize the sheer power that female krogan might wield within their society. I began to hope that the krogan _could_ change their ways, once the genophage was no longer an issue.

Eve began to stride down the ramp.

"You can stay here and let old wounds fester, as krogan have always done."

She moved right through the crowd of males, between Wrex and Wreav, never looking to either side, perfectly confident that they would part to let her pass.

"Or you can fight the enemy _you were born to destroy_ . . . and win a new future for our children."

She stepped up onto the ceremonial dais, paused for a moment, and then turned to glare at all of her people.

"_I choose to fight_. Who will join me?"

My bondmate knew a dramatic cue when he heard one. He stepped forward at once, standing directly between Wrex and his half-brother. "I will."

"And so will I," growled Wrex, taking command of the situation. "Now hold your heads high like true krogan! There's a Reaper out there that needs killing!"

Now the growling and roaring began once more . . . but I could sense a difference. I no longer saw two bands of hostile krogan at odds. Now all of them aligned themselves like iron filings between the poles of a magnet, Wrex at one end of the field, Eve at the other. Standing between their leaders, they unconsciously fell into a cohesive whole, ready to march against a common enemy.

Even Wreav felt it. He looked around, saw which way the wind was blowing, and gave his half-brother a firm nod to a chorus of growled approval.

Shepard turned and strode away, leading us all up the ramp and out of the Hollows. The first unified krogan army in over a thousand years followed.


	18. The Krogan Legacy

_**1100 Local Time, 4 May 2186, Urdnot Clan Territory/Tuchanka**_

"_Krogan ground convoy, this is turian wing Artimec. Our flight vector to the Shroud is locked. We're ten minutes out and counting."_

"Copy that, Artimec," said Shepard over his helmet radio. "We're on our way, trying to make up lost time. James, are you and Garrus in position?"

"_In position and ready to go, Loco. Just give the word."_

"The word is given. Link up with the krogan and start pressing forward against the Reaper right flank. Be careful, conserve your men, but make lots of noise."

"_They'll hear us back in San Diego, I guarantee."_

"Good. Shepard out."

Six of us sat crammed into the passenger compartment of a _tomkah_, rolling along and jostling in our seats every few moments. I opened my omni-tool and examined a map of the terrain. Twenty kilometers behind us lay the Urdnot clan center where we had mustered, located amid the ruins of an ancient krogan military installation. We followed a broken road that meandered generally northward through the ruins and wasteland, gradually descending onto a vast desert plain where the Shroud facility waited for us. We had four or five kilometers to go . . .

Eve shifted in her seat, glancing across the cabin at Wrex. "Wreav isn't the only krogan who will want revenge for the genophage, Wrex. You'll have to find some way to placate them."

"I'll demand the Council return some of our old territory," said the warlord. "Plenty of worlds out there that no one else wants, but are still better than Tuchanka. With the genophage cured we'll need room to expand. Recapture the glory of the ancients."

"_Glory of ancients_ led to Krogan Rebellions," observed Mordin. "Countless deaths. Creation of genophage. Expansion plan . . . problematic."

"What were the ancient krogan like?" Shepard wondered.

"Tuchanka wasn't always a wasteland," said Eve. "In the old times the krogan were a proud people. We had art, literature, scientific achievements of our own. We had dreams, a future to look forward to."

"Until salarian interference," said Mordin bleakly.

"No. Not everything is about _your_ people, Doctor." Eve's glance at the old salarian was almost indulgent. "We destroyed Tuchanka without any help from outsiders. Advanced technology changed us. Life became too easy. The old challenges once posed by simple survival began to fade away. So we looked for new challenges, and found them in each other. Nuclear war was inevitable."

Wrex nodded in agreement. "So now our planet is rubble. We'll need another place to live while we rebuild it."

"I'd say helping to defeat the Reapers would be worth a new planet," said Shepard with a smile.

"Or ten," said Wrex with a sly smile. "You haven't seen how fast we can pop them out."

"Wrex!" Eve rebuked the warlord.

"What? With the genophage cured, we'll have a lot of catching up to do."

Eve only stared at him with narrowed eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. Just because we _can_ breed almost as fast as pyjaks doesn't mean we _have_ to. We want to rebuild Tuchanka, make decent homes for ourselves on some of the old colony worlds. That means we'll need _enough_ krogan, not _too many_. Enough hands to do the work, not so many mouths that they eat up everything we've worked to gain. Enough soldiers to defend ourselves and help defend the rest of you, not so many that we scare the crap out of everyone again."

Eve nodded. "Even after we can count on being able to bear living children again, we females will want to limit our reproduction. Our children need to be cared for, taught the ancient wisdom, encouraged to reach for something other than eternal bloody strife. That means fewer children, but greater investment in each. Primitive krogan bred for raw numbers. _Civilized_ krogan will breed for quality of life."

Shepard glanced at me, his eyes shadowed, and I could tell what he was thinking.

_The salarians never saw this. Because they never looked for it, never moved beyond their own bigotry to guess it could be there._

I gave him a small encouraging nod.

"There's something you should know," he said. "Back on the _Normandy,_ just before we set out for the surface . . . _dalatrass_ Linron tried to cut a secret deal with me."

"What kind of deal?" Wrex demanded.

"She said they sabotaged the Shroud years ago. The cure won't work unless we fix it. Liara?"

I opened my omni-tool again, and played the conversation I had recorded between Linron and Shepard. The krogan began to frown like looming thunderclouds. Even Eve clearly grew angry.

When it was over, Wrex shook his head in fury. "She thought we wouldn't know better?"

"Correctly," stated Mordin. "Would likely have fooled tests. But familiar with STG work. Can adjust. Did not come this far for nothing."

"You just spared our race another genocide, Commander," said Eve.

"You didn't earn the first one, much less another."

"Perhaps. At the time the other races were right to fear us. We did pose a terrible threat to them."

"Maybe." Shepard folded his arms and set his jaw in determination. "Everyone deserves a chance to correct their mistakes, to prove they can change for the better. That's as true for whole species as it is for individuals."

"Repentance followed by forgiveness, Commander?"

Shepard caught Eve's gaze, saw the gleam in her eye, and a slow smile spread across his face. "I suppose you could call it that."

Wrex grinned at his partner. "I told you we could count on him."

_Eve understands humans better than anyone realizes_, I thought to myself. _I wonder what kind of extranet research she was doing, during all those long hours in the medical bay between Mordin's procedures. Or perhaps it was Mordin himself who taught her._

Just then, the _tomkah_ began to slow, its brakes squealing on both sides of the passenger compartment.

Wrex stood. "Why are we stopping?"

"Sit tight," said Shepard. "I'll get out and see what's happening."

As soon as the _tomkah_ came to a complete stop, Shepard popped the side hatch and swung out onto the road. Javik and I checked our weapons and followed him.

Hot, dry air slapped me in the face, full of a flat alkaline taste. I looked out over the land. We had stopped at the edge of some ancient ruins to the east. In the opposite direction I saw two more decayed roadbeds, even less traversable than the one we were on. Then a few snarls of ancient metal, and then nothing but drifting sand and bitter outcroppings of stone to the distant horizon.

The Shroud stood there, unlike anything else I had seen on Tuchanka, clean salarian architecture reaching well over a kilometer into the sky. It gleamed in the dim sunlight, reflecting shades of yellow and sickly green. From it a vast streamer of poisoned air reached up into the sky, merging at last with a thick bank of clouds that blotted out most of the sunlight.

There, standing close to the Shroud tower, smaller but much more menacing: the insectile shape of a Reaper. It made its mechanical roar, the sound echoing across the desert plain. Small in the distance, I could hear the sound of gunfire. The main krogan force, with humans and turians in support, had collided with the Reaper's ground units.

"Wrex, you and Mordin stay with Eve," called Shepard into his helmet comm. "It's looking ugly out here."

"_Will do."_

Shepard strode away, setting out for the head of our convoy to see why we had stopped. Javik and I followed.

"Goddess," I murmured. "Look at that Reaper. It's like the end of days out there."

"That is what the Reapers are," said Javik. "Wherever they go, there walks the doom even of the gods."

We reached the front of the convoy. At once I could see the problem. Just ahead of Wrex's _tomkah_ the road leaped over a declivity in the land, fifty meters straight down to the desert sands. The ancient krogan had once built a bridge over the gap, and their engineering had lasted _almost _down to the present day. Some recent shock – perhaps even the arrival of the Reaper destroyer, a few kilometers away – had proven fatal. The road was still mostly in place, but it was broken and loose, a series of tilted slabs, ready to collapse entirely at any moment.

"What's the holdup?" Shepard demanded.

A krogan scout crouched at the edge of the gap, examining what remained of the bridge. "Road's out. The convoy can't make it through."

Shepard activated his helmet comm. "Turian wing Artimec, we've been delayed. Hold off your attack!"

Too late. Even then we heard a roaring from up above, aircraft approaching at high speed. _"Negative, Commander. Our approach vector is locked. That Reaper already knows we're here."_

A squadron of turian fighters soared out of the east and overhead, the thunder of their engines shaking the roadbed beneath our feet. They zoomed west toward the Shroud, already beginning to fire on the Reaper.

The enemy responded with another deep roar, and then I heard a new sound for the very first time: the resonant, almost musical tone of a Reaper's main gun firing into the sky.

"The airstrike is too soon," said Javik. "We are in no position to move against the Shroud!"

"Damn it." Shepard scowled, and I knew he saw his carefully laid plan falling to pieces. He turned to the scout, raising his voice to be heard above the din of the distant battle. "I don't care if we have to build a new road! We're going!"

Then I saw it. The Reaper's gun fired, grazing one of the turian fighters. It veered out of control, trailing fire and smoke . . . heading directly for us. _"Shepard!"_

His eyes flew wide. _"Move!"_

I slammed a barrier down and threw myself flat, just in time for a world-shattering concussion. Flames erupted, singing me even at a distance. I rolled onto my back, in time to see a krogan _tomkah_ arcing through the air, slamming down on its nose in a cacophony of shattered metal, only a few meters away.

"_Shepard, what's going on out there?"_

"Wrex, get the female out of here, _now._ Go!"

Wrex's _tomkah_ immediately leaped into motion, roaring out onto the dangerous span, the slabs of broken road shifting under its weight. A second vehicle followed, but then the bridge collapsed entirely. I looked back along the rest convoy, and saw nothing at first but shattered vehicles and dead krogan.

Shepard rose to his feet, already looking around him for cover, some point where he could muster the survivors. "Artimec, do you copy?"

"_We have to abort, Commander. That Reaper is tearing us to pieces!"_

"Understood. Save your pilots. We'll find another way."

I looked around, feeling horribly exposed. Then an avenue of escape presented itself. "Shepard, there's a tunnel over there. Could be a way off."

"Get to it!"

The three of us hurried, leaping across a wide ditch to reach the entrance to the tunnel. Shepard paused for a moment before we ventured deep inside, calling for any surviving krogan to follow. None did.

"Now what?" I asked him.

"We cannot continue in the open," said Javik. "Perhaps these tunnels will lead us around the obstacle."

Shepard nodded, a disgusted expression on his face. "Seems as good an idea as any. We have to link back up with the others, try to find a way to salvage this clusterfuck."

"Commander, in my cycle we had a saying. No battle plan . . ."

"Survives contact with the enemy," Shepard interrupted.

"_Rrrh._ It is good to see that some things do not change."

"Come on." Shepard turned, leading us further into the tunnel.

We descended into darkness, turning on the lights attached to our weapons. I activated the inertial guidance system in my omni-tool, so I could construct a map of the spaces we moved through. All around us loomed stone – floor, walls, ceiling, all was natural stone – massive but cleverly shaped and set, clearly capable of standing for thousands of years. Rubble scattered across the floor, clogged niches and side passages. At the bottom of the tunnel we passed through a square doorway, with lifelike krogan statues standing guard on either side.

Shepard activated his helmet comm. "Wrex, are you receiving this? Is everyone okay?"

"_Yeah, just scratches, nothing the salarian can't patch up. Wreav's __**tomkah**__ made it out too. The rest of the convoy is going to have to pull itself together and follow as best they can."_

"The turians had to call off the airstrike. We'll need a new plan for dealing with the Reaper. Can you reach the ground attack force?"

"_Yeah. EDI is relaying messages."_

"Have them break contact and fall back for the time being. They push forward too far, we're likely to face defeat in detail."

"_Agreed. In the meantime, we have to find you. You still with the convoy?"_

"No, we got separated. We're underground. We see ruins of some kind."

Eve's voice: _"Commander, that's a city of the ancients."_

"How do we get out?"

"_No maps exist. It's been abandoned for thousands of years. Even before the nuclear wars."_

"_You're a trailblazer, Shepard,"_ said Wrex. _"Get through there, and we'll find a place to meet up."_

For a long time we moved slowly through the darkness, clambering over rubble falls and broken flooring. After a while I began to see hints of a pattern, an ordered layout of streets and enclosures instead of a random maze. Details I had learned at the university, about pre-contact krogan architecture, came to life before my eyes. I began to make suggestions, and those suggestions began to pay off in progress.

The ground shifted under our feet, just enough to notice. A few pebbles fell from above, clattering on the floor.

"What was that?" whispered Shepard.

"A tremor," said Javik.

"I'm not sure of that," I told them. "This region of Tuchanka doesn't see much tectonic activity."

"How do you know, asari? Are you also an expert in planetology?"

"No, but if this place _was_ subject to frequent quakes, none of these underground passages would have survived across more than four thousand years."

"Possibly."

We moved on. A few minutes later, while we walked along a straight corridor, Shepard stopped suddenly to shine his light on the wall beside us. A splash of color in the darkness . . .

"Now that's not something I would have expected to see on Tuchanka," he murmured.

We saw a fresco, painting on plaster that covered the stone of the wall, remarkably well-preserved considering its age. The style seemed highly formalized, all flat geometry with no sense of perspective. Krogan marched in a procession from left to right, each one bearing a gift. At the far right a larger figure stood, wrapped in ceremonial robes and carrying a tall staff, making a gesture of dominance and welcome.

"Apparently the krogan could paint once."

"Yes. This fits what Eve was telling us about ancient krogan culture. Look here." I pointed to the procession, my hand moving from left to right across the wall. "Notice how all the krogan carrying objects are male. Each object is different, possibly symbolizing a different clan or nation. Bringing gifts? Or possibly tribute?"

"The big krogan, there on the right?"

"Female. A matriarch, receiving tribute from her vassals?"

"We never hear much about female krogan," Shepard observed. "I have to wonder what they might be like, once the genophage is cured. If Eve is any indication . . ."

"Commander, we have little time," said Javik.

"True. Come on."

We pressed onward. Another tremor shook the floor under our feet. Then another, hard enough to push us off-balance for a moment.

"That didn't feel like a quake," I said fearfully. _To be trapped down here . . ._

"Wrex, are you guys feeling these tremors?"

"_Not up here,"_ said the warlord.

Eve broke into the channel. _"It could be something else, Commander. It is said that Kalros, the mother of all thresher maws, lives in this region."_

"_Which is another really good reason for you to get your ass out of there, Shepard! Step on it!"_

We clambered up onto a tall rubble pile, used it to cross into another enclosure, possibly an ancient temple.

"_Kalros, the mother of all thresher maws_ . . . sounds troubling," Javik murmured.

"If the krogan _name_ a thresher maw, I suspect it must be something remarkable."

"Like this?" asked Shepard, a note of awe in his voice.

He had come up to a great wall, apparently the back wall of the enclosure we stood in. He shone his flashlight up the wall, to reveal another fresco . . . a long, segmented creature, rising in coil after coil to a barbed head far above our heads. Stylized krogan figures stood on both sides, in attitudes of reverence.

I shook my head in wonder. "Kalros, I presume."

"Impressive," said Javik. "I remember thresher maws from my cycle. They were . . . not so large then."

"How so?" asked Shepard.

"It was possible to ride them." Javik looked up at the fresco. "I would not want to encounter such a creature."

"All the more reason to get out of this place," I said.

Ten more minutes passed. We felt a few more tremors, small ones, as if something massive moved in the earth at a great distance. We lost track of how far we had come, although my omni-tool indicated it had been nearly two kilometers in a straight line. The ancient ruins seemed to go on forever.

Javik was the first to smell something _off_ in the vicinity, a scent of death and corruption. Despite our distaste, we followed air currents toward the smell. We reasoned that if anything living had made its way down into these tunnels to die, it might still lie close to a way out.

When we found the corpse, it made my gorge rise. A twisted heap of bloated flesh, not even remotely asari-like, all black exoskeleton and pink sacs of corruption. Some kind of mechanical weaponry had been fused into its upper body.

"Rachni," said Javik.

"Are these like the creatures you had to fight on Utukku?" I asked Shepard.

"Yes. The Reapers captured the queen we freed on Noveria. They forced her to bear _children_ to be twisted into . . . this. Living weapons, like miniature artillery pieces."

"I'm glad you were able to free her. But why are we finding these _ravagers_ here now?"

"There are bound to be more than just the ones we killed." Shepard scanned the corpse with his omni-tool, while I clamped my hand over mouth and nose in a futile attempt to keep out the stench. "Wrex, we've got rachni here. Keep an eye out."

"_Yeah, I know. A few of them just attacked us. Nothing we couldn't handle."_

"Commander. Look!"

We stared up into the darkness where Javik pointed. At first I couldn't see anything, but then Shepard turned off his flashlight. The darkness closed around us, but there was also a glimmer of light.

"A way out," said Shepard. "Come on!"

We climbed a long staircase, emerging in a long colonnade that led out to the surface. To one side I could hear water running. In the dim sunlight, the place was stark but quite beautiful.

I took a deep breath, almost enjoying the hot, dry air of the Tuchanka surface. At least it was fresh and clean. "I wish I had known more about this place, when I was still working as an archaeologist. I would have loved to come and study these ruins."

"_Rrrh,"_ growled Javik. "The remnants of a failed species."

I glared at the Prothean, but my distaste made no impression on him.

Shepard led us out of the colonnade, onto the edge of what appeared to be a wide plaza. Great buildings rose on all sides, squat and massive, ruined and decaying like the rest of the architecture we had seen that day. I still remained impressed by a culture that could erect such grand edifices, still standing despite nuclear war and thousands of years of neglect.

"Wrex, we made it back outside."

"_Well, if you can see sunlight, that's progress."_

"And green," I murmured. "I didn't think this region could support plant life."

"_You're looking at hope,"_ said Eve. _"All that's left of it here on Tuchanka. This world was once full of beauty. Given a chance, it can be again."_

"_That's for tomorrow. Right now that Reaper is still up to no good at the Shroud. Find a way out of there, and we'll pick you up."_

"We're on it," said Shepard, leading us out into the plaza. "What's the status of the ground attack force?"

"_Holding their own. The Reaper doesn't seem interested in killing them, just keeping them at a distance. I can patch you through to Garrus if you want."_

"Please."

"_We're still here, Shepard,"_ said Garrus. _"Barely engaged, not under any real pressure at the moment. Casualties have been light so far. Though it looks like our original plan is in the bit-bucket. Thoughts?"_

"Keep yourselves alive, and be ready to move again," Shepard commanded. "Eve's alive, Mordin's alive, Wrex and Wreav are still able to maneuver. We're not out of the fight yet. If my team can link up with what's left of the convoy, we can try for the Shroud after all."

"_Got it. Keep us in the loop. Garrus out."_

"And when we get there, vengeance will be mine," said Javik.

"First we have to get there," said Shepard. "Let's go."


	19. Titanomachy

_**1230 Local Time, 4 May 2186, Urdnot Clan Territory/Tuchanka**_

As we moved through the ancient city, we encountered Reaper patrols, infiltrating ahead of us. We couldn't be sure whether the Reaper knew about our plans, but it clearly suspected _something_ was up. Most of the Reaper troops were the vicious _cannibals_, bloated parodies of batarians, each with a human corpse grafted in place of its right arm as the basis of a weapon system. Some cannibal fire-teams had a dozen husks or a brute to send ahead as shock troops. Others had one or two ravagers with them, serving as portable artillery.

To my surprise, we found these battles rather easy to win.

Shepard and I both had powerful biotic talents, and we had forged a good working partnership on the battlefield. Already we had worked out several useful combination techniques. Either of us could telekinetically _pull_ an enemy out of position, or I could lay down a _singularity_ to draw several foes up into the air. These effects could then be detonated by one of my _warps_, or by Shepard's devastating _shockwave_. As I had learned years before while working with Kaidan, the results could be as devastating to the enemy as an artillery battery.

At first we couldn't be certain what to do with Javik. He was also a biotic, but his Prothean techniques seemed quite foreign to the asari or human systems. Even his corona had a strange appearance, livid green rather than crisp, familiar blue. Yet we soon found that his techniques worked quite well with ours.

Like either of us, Javik could wield a biotic pull. He also had a ferocious _slam_ technique which could detonate our pulls or my singularity. Finally, he could paint an enemy with something he called the _dark channel_, a clinging effect which inflicted terrible damage over time, and could be detonated by my warp or Shepard's shockwave.

Once the three of us had a chance to practice, we found ways to tear through Reaper forces in short order. We already knew that husks were fragile in the face of a biotic assault. The cannibals proved to be not much stronger. Brutes were armored and very tough, but they had no ability to attack at range, and in open ground we usually managed to kill them before they came within charging distance. Ravagers presented a much harder problem, pouring out hellish three-round barrages every few moments. We soon learned to watch their timing, keeping under cover with our heads down during their firing cycle. In between they seemed to require a short pause to recharge, so that was when we hammered them with weapons fire, grenades, and biotic effects.

Before long I found myself almost _enjoying_ fighting alongside Javik. He may have been a cynical, misanthropic troll, but he was also a consummate soldier, and he fit into our fire-team like a fist in a mailed glove.

As we finished one of these short affrays, the ground shook under our feet once more, much harder this time. Whatever we felt had come much closer.

"Kalros is more than a myth!" Javik shouted, as he struggled to keep his feet and tried to stare in all directions.

"Stay sharp!" ordered Shepard.

The chatter of my Shuriken, the low hum of Javik's ancient beam rifle, the coughing crash of Shepard's shotgun, the booming roar of biotic detonations . . . in the end, we drowned out the weird chatter and howl of the Reaper's slaves.

"_Shepard, how's it coming?"_ came Wrex's voice over the comm during a pause between battles.

"We're making progress, but we're still in the ruins."

"_Get a move on. That Reaper hasn't moved, and the sky is looking worse."_

Another tremor.

"Wrex, I think you're right about Kalros. She must be on the move."

"_Yeah, we've got some ideas on that – what?"_

"_Not now, Wrex,"_ said Eve. _"The commander has enough to worry about."_

"What's happening?"

"_Some crazy idea we can talk about later. Just worry about getting out of there for now. Your signal shows you're close to open country again. Keep moving and we'll pick you up."_

I saw movement by the far wall of another plaza. "Shepard! Take a breath, because _here they come!"_

"Check back with you in a minute, Wrex," Shepard said, and then returned to the work of killing.

More cannibals, more husks, and _two_ ravagers. That presented a bit more of a challenge, since the warped rachni warriors could stagger their firing cycles. We improvised, focusing on one enormous bug, then the other.

"_Shepard, looks like you're just short of a bridge over the sand. We're less than a minute away. Try to find it, and we'll pick you up there."_

"We're a little preoccupied right now, Wrex!"

"_Didn't say it would be easy."_

"I didn't think Tuchanka could get any worse," I muttered.

"_It was good enough for your grandfather, Liara. Think about it. A whole planet designed to keep you on your toes!"_

"Your grandfather?" asked Javik, while he cut down a trio of husks with his rifle.

"Apparently he was krogan."

"_Rrrh._ Asari. It must be very strange, to mate with other species and be capable of bearing offspring as a result."

I flung a warp across the plaza, rocking a ravager back. "It seems natural enough to us . . . wait. How would _you_ know about that aspect of our biology? We didn't discover it ourselves until we met the salarians."

Javik only gave me a moment's four-eyed stare and a wicked grin, before hurling one of his grenades against the enemy.

"Liara!" snapped Shepard. "Eyes on the prize!"

_Did the Protheans do more than __**observe**__ the primitive asari?_

Then I had no more time to think about it, with a wave of husks bearing down on our position.

Afterward, we emerged from the plaza to find the bridge Wrex had told us about. Here the desert sands washed up against the north edge of the ancient city, with only one more massive building ahead of us. A stone bridge stood over the sand down below, leading out to that last edifice.

Javik pointed out into the desert. "There are the trucks!"

"_Shepard, we're coming under the bridge. Get down here and we can head for the Shroud."_

"Will do." Shepard began to look around for a means of descent.

"_Wait . . . Kalros!"_

The trucks slammed into motion, rushing under the bridge in mad flight.

"Wrex?"

"_Break off! We're getting out of here!"_

_Goddess!_

It looked like a low range of hills, cresting above the sand as it pursued the trucks.

What I saw was segmented, ridged, clearly only a small portion of the creature. The whole must have been well over two hundred meters in length. It sounded like an avalanche in full career, and then it _howled_ in frustrated rage, an enormous, bestial sound that threatened to shatter my aural membranes. The high ridge of its back slammed into the middle section of the bridge, tearing a gap in the road-bed, and then it was away in pursuit of the trucks.

Mordin's voice: _"Kalros's territorial instinct confirmed!"_

"_She's not going to get us!"_

Shepard stared after the trucks, his eyes momentarily wide with something I had rarely seen in him: _raw terror._ Then he shook his head and it was gone. "Come on, let's see if we can catch up with them."

We crossed the bridge at a run, jumping with biotic assistance over the wide gap Kalros had made, and hurried into the large building on the other side. Far to our right we could see Wrex's _tomkah_ still moving at high speed, the monstrous thresher maw in hot pursuit.

"_Go on ahead, Shepard! We'll try to shake this thing and find you."_

"_Thresher maw getting closer!"_ said Mordin.

"_Yeah, tell me something I don't know."_

"_Metal in truck excellent iron supplement for maw's diet!"_

"This planet is one giant death-trap," I said.

"The Reapers must feel right at home," said Javik.

That last building stood largely open to the sky, erected around a deep well guarded by several krogan statues. I could see traces of inscriptions on the walls around us, worn away by time and desert sand.

"I wonder where we are now?"

Javik peered around, and then shrugged. "A memorial of some kind?"

"Heads up!" said Shepard.

I saw another squad of the Reaper's slaves, this time led by several marauders. These presented more of a challenge, although we found plenty of cover behind massive stonework. We deployed and began our counterattack, using the techniques we had polished back in the ruined city.

"_Shepard! Wrex busy driving truck,"_ said Mordin. _"Are you still alive?"_

"Doing what we can." Shepard flash-charged across the field, taking out a cluster of husks. "What about you?"

"_Alarmed, yet entertained. Kalros is quite persistent."_

Javik flung a grenade into the enemy's midst, scattering a fire-team of cannibals.

"_Wreav, stick close!"_

I moved up to new cover, turning slightly as I went, firing bursts across a wide arc with my Shuriken.

"_Drive faster!"_ Wreav shouted._ "I can smell the damn thing's breath!"_

Shepard flash-charged into a marauder, knocking it back, and then smashing the center of the enemy formation with a nova-blast. Two blasts from his shotgun finished off two marauders in quick succession.

Javik and I broke from cover and charged forward, laying down gunfire and biotic attacks to both sides. Within moments, the enemy was down.

"_Shepard, we've almost lost Kalros! Get down from there and we'll find you."_

A long, shallow staircase led down to the sands. A _tomkah_ drove up onto a stone slab at the bottom of the stairs, the hatch popping open for us. A second _tomkah_ remained out on the sand, its gun turret swiveling as its pilot tried to look in every direction at once.

"_Make this quick, Wrex. We're exposed!"_

"Move it!" snapped Shepard.

We hurried. Shepard paused by the _tomkah_, motioning for us to hurry, clearly intending to be the last one inside. Javik made it to the hatch, with me only a few steps behind.

A deep rumbling sound. Sand began to geyser up into the sky a short distance away, approaching with terrible speed.

"_It's Kalros!"_

I half-leaped through the hatch, climbing up into the passenger compartment, Shepard right behind me.

"Move, Shepard!" shouted Wrex from the pilot's seat.

"We're in! Go!"

The _tomkah_ slammed into motion, heading the way Kalros had come.

"What about Wreav?" asked Eve.

"His _tomkah_ went down," Wrex reported. "There's no way he survived that. He was a pain in the ass anyway. Now let's finish this. There's a Reaper waiting for us."

* * *

_**1315 Local Time, 4 May 2186, Shroud Facility/Tuchanka**_

One lonely _tomkah,_ the last remnant of the krogan ground convoy, rolled up beside a stone wall half a kilometer from the base of the Shroud. As we emerged from the vehicle, we heard the Reaper's bass roar off in the distance.

Shepard activated his comm. "James? Garrus? Anyone on this channel?"

"_We're here, Loco. Just finished a sharp little fight against those Reaper things. More of them massing in front of us."_

"What's your outlook? Any chance you can resume your push?"

"_Maybe. Not sure what good it would do. That Reaper is sticking to the Shroud like a burr, no matter what we try."_

"All right, stand fast for a moment while we think about this."

"_Aye-aye."_

All of us looked toward the Shroud, where the Reaper stood squarely in our path. "We don't have a plan for this," I said wearily.

"Vengeance is the goal," said Javik. "Suicide is not."

"We're curing the genophage no matter what it takes," Wrex growled. "Everything my people will ever be depends on it. Shepard, the krogan are ready to do what needs to be done."

"Then I hope this idea you were talking about is a good one."

Wrex grinned and indicated Eve, an odd mix of resentment and pride in his voice. "It was _hers_, actually."

"Kalros," said Eve. "We summon her to the Reaper."

Shepard raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Would that even work?"

"Already discussed strategy," said Mordin. "Need to distract Reaper. Airstrike didn't work. Ground attack didn't work. Maw possibly big enough seize Reaper's attention."

"What makes you so sure she'll come?"

"Legends say she is the mother from which all other thresher maws spawn," said Eve. "This is as much her home as ours. She will fight to defend it."

Wrex nodded in agreement. "If Tuchanka has a temper, Kalros is it. Nobody's ever faced her and survived."

Shepard nodded decisively. "People said the same thing about the Omega-4 Relay. We can do this."

"That's the spirit, Shepard."

"So how do we summon her?"

Eve pointed toward the Reaper, raising her voice over its distant mechanical roar to explain. "The Shroud tower was built in an ancient arena dedicated to the glory of Kalros. The salarians thought she would scare away intruders."

"Appears to have worked," said Mordin, peering at his omni-tool. "Queries to Shroud systems are returning nominal status. No sign of external damage."

"There are two maw hammers in the arena," Eve continued. "The largest in existence. If you can activate them, Kalros will come. That should distract the Reaper."

"Meanwhile, laboratory nearby. Will finish synthesizing cure."

"All right. It's not a great plan, but it's the best we've got." Shepard opened his helmet comm once more. "James, I need one more good solid push from the assault force. If they're massing on your front, that means the Reaper still thinks it needs to worry about you. Encourage it."

"_Got it. We're jumping off now."_

Almost at once, we heard a surge of gunfire in the distance, ahead of us and to the right. The Reaper did not move, showed no sign of being distracted, but I could imagine its ground forces directed to face the krogan attack. At the very least, there might be less for us to face.

"All right," said Shepard. "We all know why we're here. Let's make it happen."

"Wait," growled Wrex, stepping forward to loom over Shepard. "I want you to know . . . no matter what happens, you've been a champion of the krogan people, a friend of Clan Urdnot, and a brother to me. From now on, all krogan will know that we _can_ have friends among the other species. To every krogan born after this day, the name _Shepard_ will mean _hero!"_

Shepard said nothing, only smiled warmly and clasped Wrex's hand.

"Now let's go show them why!"

"See you all on the other side," said Shepard.

"Stay alive," said Mordin. "Will have cure ready."

We leaped over a low stone wall to begin our run for the Shroud.

Almost at once, Reaper troops deployed before us, falling like meteors from the sky. Cannibals, standing and laying down heavy fire the moment they appeared. Not much of a challenge. We stood our ground and softened them up for a few moments, then Shepard flash-charged forward and shattered their formation with a nova blast.

"_Damn. Bunch of rachni just attacked us. I took care of them."_ Wrex sounded almost satisfied. _"There's another complication, though. Someone has to raise those maw hammers before you can use them."_

"Kind of busy here, Wrex."

"_Lucky for you I'm here. I can take care of it."_

We moved to the side, out of the Reaper's immediate view, up into a massive stone building. For a time we could move forward more quickly, and no more Reaper forces could deploy in front of us. We could hear the vast machine moving, closer and closer as we made progress.

Out onto a stone bridge . . . and once again we stood in the Reaper's line of sight.

"At last," muttered Javik.

"Double-time it, people. We're exposed here." Shepard fitted action to words, breaking into a sprint.

Too late. I glanced to our left and saw the Reaper's firing chamber exposed, a great baleful red light shining out across the landscape.

_It knows we're here!_

"_Shepard!"_

An enormous tone, almost musical, and the Reaper's main gun fired. A great blade of ruby light lashed out, slicing down from above mere meters ahead of Shepard, breaking the bridge span in half. The span collapsed in a fall of rubble, and we went with it.

For a moment I couldn't think about anything but my own survival. I tucked into a ball, slammed down as strong a barrier as I could, and waited for the fall to smash the life out of me. Then I hit some scattered rubble, which shifted under me and broke my fall. I stirred, rose to my feet, battered but still alive.

Javik leaped from a height next to me, landing on his feet with his rifle already brought to bear. A few meters away I saw Shepard standing once more.

"Everyone all right?" he asked.

"Yes, Commander."

"I think so," I said shakily. "Considering we just got shot by a Reaper."

The ancient machine moved forward, with a noise like explosions in a sheet-metal factory. It made its great roar, trying to drive us into madness and flight.

"Consider that practice," said Shepard. "No cover up ahead. _Run!"_

_Oh Goddess he's right there's nothing to stand in that thing's way . . ._

I ran. Despite every instinct, _toward_ the Reaper.

It stood close ahead, its legs spread in a strength-stance, its many "eyes" glowing like furnaces, impossibly tall and mighty. The cover over its firing chamber retracted once again. It began to fire at us every few seconds, a musical symphony out of hell, breaking stone and sending rubble flying on all sides. None of us even tried to bring our weapons to bear. It was all we could do to maintain our biotic barriers and _keep running_ through the chaos.

"_Okay, Shepard. I raised the maw hammers for you. You have to activate both of them! My recommendation is to avoid the giant laser!"_

"Sound tactical advice!" shouted Shepard, dry humor audible in his voice despite the sound of the end of the world on all sides. It didn't cause him to break his stride.

Someone was praying with manic intensity. "Oh Goddess oh Goddess oh Goddess _oh Goddess . . ._" It must have been me.

"Hah! I remember this part!" crowed Javik.

_Well, if he's done this before and survived, maybe I can. Maybe._

We reached a low stone wall, crouched behind it for a moment to catch our breath.

I glanced over the wall, saw the Reaper looming _over_ us, well able to blast us into vapor where we cowered.

Then gunfire streamed _down_ on it, blue-white bolts from behind our position. The Reaper hesitated.

A new sound from overhead, engines roaring as aircraft soared out of the south.

"_Commander, this is Artimec Wing. We'll try to give that Reaper something else to shoot at."_

Finally, something our side had done seemed to distract the terrible machine. It slammed its firing chamber closed and began to shift its stance, recoiling from the turian assault.

"Goddess be with them," I prayed.

"Go!" Shepard shouted. "Let's push ahead!"

We vaulted the stone wall and ran forward once more.

_Slam! Slam!_ More meteoric bursts of red flame, as new Reaper forces were deployed in our path.

_Brutes_. One of them. Two. Three. _Six_.

Shepard never hesitated. His right hand lashed out, a _shockwave_ rocking the creatures back on their heels, and then he dashed forward to roll _under_ a slashing claw.

Javik followed. So did I.

"Liara! You and Javik break right! Get that maw hammer moving!"

_Separate our forces?_

Then I realized it made no difference. We were hopelessly outmatched. To stay together meant twice the time to get the hammers moving. Twice the risk that all of us would be gutted or smashed into paste before we could succeed.

I saw Shepard sprint alone, off to the left, and did my best to put him out of my mind. Instead I dodged around a brute, my barrier flashing and going down as the creature barely missed a stroke that would have taken my head off. I shifted and changed direction before it could turn around and try again.

A shadow fell across my path.

"_Asari!"_

I glanced up, had just an instant to realize I was running _under the Reaper_, and then saw its massive leg slamming down. I screamed, dove and rolled to the side.

The sound of its leg slamming into the ground was like the end of the world, but at least I _heard_ it. I got to my hands and knees, spitting out dry sand, and saw the Reaper's surface not two meters away from me.

Briefly I considered collapsing in sheer terror. Then I pushed myself to my feet, slipped around the Reaper's leg, saw open ground ahead of me, and sprinted.

"This is _utterly insane," _I gasped.

"_Shepard! Get those hammers going!"_

"_There's a Reaper in my way, Wrex!"_

"_I know. You get all the fun."_

Dry air sawing in my lungs. My heart feeling as if it would explode. Then I was by the maw hammer, the activation switch just in front of me. I reached out and slammed it down with all my strength. Javik pelted to a stop beside me less than two seconds later.

_Boom. Boom. Boom._ A sound like repeated thunder, audible even over the cacophony of the battle. I glanced back the way we had come, saw an enormous column rising and falling in rhythm. Then the hammer next to me first slammed down, a noise to rival the sound of the Reaper's movements not far away.

Completely spent, I leaned against a stone wall and stared about me in all directions. If a brute had charged me at that point, I think I would have stood quietly and resigned myself to death. Fortunately all the Reaper's creatures seemed to have other worries at the moment.

"There!" cried Javik, pointing off over the sands. _"Kalros!"_

The Reaper turned away, walking close to us but paying us no attention, apparently staring out into the desert. It roared, opening its firing chamber once more.

The last few turian fighters turned away, fleeing for the horizon.

A geyser of sand, moving rapidly closer. Kalros was visible for a moment.

The Reaper fired its main gun. Missed.

Another eruption, flinging stone and sand hundreds of meters across the desert. Kalros _breached_, the forward half of its body soaring into the air. Its monstrous head slammed into the Reaper amidships, rocking the thing back so hard that it nearly fell.

The Reaper twisted in place, trying to dislodge Kalros. The thresher maw's body was _lifted into the air entire_, soaring over our heads to slam into the Shroud tower in the middle distance.

"Asari!" shouted Javik. "This is not a fight we should witness at such close range!"

"Agreed," I gasped.

We couldn't quite manage to _run_, but we hustled as quickly as we could, back the way we came. I worried for a moment about the brutes, but there was no sign of the creatures as we fled. After a moment Javik put his shoulder under mine, his arm around my waist, supporting me as I tried to hurry.

I spared a glance for the Reaper.

It had shaken Kalros loose. It turned slightly and fired its main gun at the thresher maw once more.

Kalros _dodged_, moving with more speed and agility than I would have believed possible. Within moments it retreated under the surface once more.

Javik and I reached the dubious shelter of a stone wall and paused for a moment.

The Reaper turned slightly, its firing chamber still open and primed, looking almost _uncertain_. For good reason, if the tremors still shaking the ground were any indication.

Then Kalros erupted out of the ground again, _behind_ the Reaper, slamming into it and this time knocking it entirely off its feet.

The Reaper fired its gun desperately, but the thresher maw had adjusted its tactics. Instead of trying to simply slam into its foe, it wrapped its coils around the Reaper, exerting a terrible crushing force.

The gun fired. Then again. To no effect.

Kalros retracted herself down into the ground once more, dragging the Reaper with it, crushing it. I saw discharges of red energy, like blood from a mortal wound. I could hear the sound of crumpling metal, on a scale to shatter worlds.

One last time, the Reaper emitted its great mechanical roar.

Then it was gone.

I turned on my hardsuit comm. "Shepard?"

Silence.

"_Shepard!"_

A burst of distortion on the channel, and then I heard his voice. _". . . okay, Liara. Came a little closer than I like to having Kalros slammed down on me, but I'm okay."_

"Oh, thank the Goddess."

"_Are you and Javik all right?"_

I glanced at Javik. I was beginning to read Prothean body language: eyes wide, mouth slack, breath coming fast and deep, posture looking as if he wanted to fall to his knees. I guessed he was having the Prothean equivalent of a religious experience.

"I think so. Do you need us?"

"_No sign of the brutes. If that thing had any more troops ready to deploy, Kalros sent them to hell with it. I'm just a few steps away from the base of the Shroud right now. I'll make sure Mordin is ready to go. You and Javik head back to the truck, and I'll meet you there."_

"All right. Be careful."

"_After all that, __**now**__ you tell me to be careful?"_

"You know what I mean."

A short pause, then: _"Yes, I do. I love you, Liara. See you soon."_

I turned to see Javik watching me. "To see a Reaper fall," he said, his voice thick with emotion.

"Is this the first time?"

"Yes. For me, at least. I heard stories of the destruction of Reapers during our war, but those under my command never managed the feat. I understand that for you, this is _not_ the first time."

I nodded. "I was there when _Sovereign_ was destroyed. I may have helped, in some small way."

"_Rrrh._ Two down. Many hundreds to go." His usual cynicism seemed to have returned. Yet I saw a difference in the way he watched me. Perhaps, for the first time, a small portion of respect. "Come. Let us return to the truck, find the Commander, and see what we have won."

* * *

_**1400 Local Time, 4 May 2186, Shroud Facility/Tuchanka**_

We found Shepard standing alone in the sunlight, the genophage cure falling gently on all sides like a tracery of golden snow. He held his hand out to catch a flake of it, watching it vanish like a dream on his palm. His body language spoke of dejection rather than triumph.

I moved forward, puzzled by his stance. "Shepard? What's wrong? Where's Mordin?"

My bondmate said nothing, only pointed toward the Shroud tower.

Off in the distance I could hear explosions, signs of the tower tearing itself to pieces. It must have been damaged during the battle against the Reaper. It had lasted just long enough to perform its final service: scattering the genophage cure into the stratosphere to blanket all of Tuchanka.

"He stayed behind," said Shepard, his voice dull. "Someone had to ride the elevator up to the top, make sure the STG sabotage was fixed and everything was in good shape. Whoever did that wasn't going to be coming back down, and we both knew it."

I stepped close to him, put my arm around his waist and rested my head on his shoulder. "So he insisted."

He hugged me close. "Of course. _Had to be me_, he said."

"_Someone else might have gotten it wrong,"_ I quoted in a whisper.

The last _tomkah_ rolled up behind us. After a moment, its hatch opened and two krogan emerged, looking up into the sunlight and letting wisps of the genophage cure fall onto their faces. As always, it was hard to read Eve's expression with nothing but her eyes visible. Wrex reached up to shade his face, his expression one of simple wonder.

I glanced up at Shepard's face, calm and still, his eyes red but not overflowing.

"I was fond of him too," I said.

He nodded, his arm tightening slightly around my shoulders, but all he said was, "Let's go home."


End file.
